Incandescent
by Talace
Summary: To his back was the smoking wreckage of the town he called home, and the screaming, shrieking horde of a thousand Grimm. To his front, was his future. AU.
1. Departure

**Chapter 1**

 **Departure**

 **Disclaimer: I am quite rusty, and haven't written in months. Enjoy.**

 **This is a very different world from the RWBY you're used to. I hate the concept of Salem, and this BBEG shtick she has going.**

* * *

Jaune hit the ground running, aura rolling off him like steam off a kettle. The world around him was painted in rich, lucid color, with flickering spots of darkness in the distance. Beneath him were vast plains and rolling hills, blanketed in what once was lush greenery and foliage. Above him was the gloaming sky, clouds dyed with the red of sunset, and the sun, half-hidden within a mixture of clouds and Nevermore.

There was much to do, and little time to think. The world around him was thick with the scent of destruction- fire, smoke, blood. He had to make it out of this alive- no one else could do it but him. No one was coming to save him, not in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.

His eyes stung, whether from the event itself or the smoke he couldn't tell. Dragging his arm to wipe across his face, he looked around alertly. No major obstacles, beyond the tree line, and some straggling Grimm.

No reason to fight them.

He ran on.

The rhythm of his boots hitting the ground was oddly calming, a constancy in the very rapidly moving river that was his life right now.

It was four in the afternoon, and his life in the morning was drastically different from his life now. A few hours ago, he had parents. And a village. And friends.

But Remnant was cruel, and the hand of fate came with the swarming tide of Grimm. And in the middle of the day, the horde came without any warning. One moment, the bucolic. The next, tragedy.

Keep running, the small voice in his head said.

His brain worked, if only to distract himself from the traumatizing situation around him.

The air smelled like destruction.

The air smelled like gunfire and ash. The village he lived – _past tense-_ in was set up due to a dust-rich cave system found nearby a few decades back. Companies sought to mine the valuable resource, and with their executives and foremen, came industry. Laborers had to live, eat, and die somewhere, and the rest, as they say, is history.

The reason why the air smelled like gunfire was most likely due to the drones brought as security for the town. With industry came thieves and necessity was the mother of buying things, so the robots were brought in. A hail of bullets met Beowulf and bandit alike. They did their job just fine, but you cannot expect a measly cohort of spider droids and wall mounts to protect a village from a never ending tide of darkness. With that, the walls fell.

The reason why the air smelled like ash was the fire's fault. An explosion had occurred in one of the manufactories, and the fire spread quickly with the authorities preoccupied with the onslaught of Grimm. Given that this was an industrial town, with many warehouses storing dust and many repositories of complex, flammable machinery, the fire did not want for fuel.

His thoughts plagued him while running, and while he remained vaguely alert, he had entered the dreamlike fugue one enters when all parts of the brain except for the parts need to operate a certain task shut down. A rustle, from his left.

A Creep, tearing from the underbrush. Coming at him. There. As if waking a sleeping limb, his semblance came to life. Radiance spilled forth from Jaune's soul, and coalesced around his hand. An unshakable warmth filled him with hope and courage. With a languid, almost lazy motion, his light-covered hand tore through the Creep's oddly-shaped center, and knocking it to the ground.

Shaking from his reverie, Jaune ran on, sword in hand. The attack to his home came quickly, and Jaune fended them off valiantly - _not valiantly, they're all dead now-_. But his parents, defending their home while he had been outside the gates by chance, had urged him to leave, before the attack could kill them all. "At least," they said, "there would be someone to remember us." His sisters were all huntswomen, each away on some mission. Now, they'd come home to rubble and two graves. But he had to survive first.

And so he ran. And when the roar of a Tyrant Scale tore through the air, he didn't look back.

He was running, and running, and running, and running. His body ran more on aura than food, and he could not feel the tiredness in his legs. Something about lineage, how he was the fastest and strongest in class by a mile. That mattered little to him now. Survival was imperative. With a flash of his longsword another Beowulf fell, bisected by the glowing light. It had scarcely hit the ground when he trod past it.

The hills were beginning to roughen up, and make way for less scenic landscape. He was seeing trees more and more often, and the air gained a sharper quality. He had to have been running for at least four hours. Jaune knew that the direction he was running in lead to a forest, and a mountain pass. But he remembered the trade caravans and airships of his childhood coming from this direction. Trade meant civilization. That meant survival.

The sun was gone. The same could almost be said for his aura, but it seemed that he had outrun the Grimm at last. He could no longer see the smokestacks from his village, or the surrounding roads. He was well and truly gone from his home.

He knew in the back of his mind that forcing himself to continue was suicide. His heart told him to keep running, to distract him from the shattering realization that everyone he knew and grew up with is likely dead by the hand of the Grimm. Rationality rebutted with the idea that prolonged physical exertion in the wilderness would likely leave him dead. He was exhausted. Fine. Rationality won over.

With that settled, the last step in his plan was to execute. Find shelter, and fast. While he had escaped the tide of Grimm, that did not mean the forest did not hold the denizens of the night themselves.

He stalked forward, footsteps silent and with bated breath.

There. The radiance from his semblance brought a marking on the rock face nearby. A circle attached to an arrow, and the shape of an open square, opening upwards, marked in charcoal pigments. He knew what these symbols meant. The arrow-circle meant that it was safe to go in the direction of the arrow, and the open square meant that it was safe to stay there. He carried on, along the side of the rock face.

A rusted metal door, cleverly concealed with tree growth and rocks. It spoke to him of shelter, and perhaps resources. It gave way with a shove.

He found his place for the night.

His shelter, as it turned out, was particularly threadbare. It was one room, carved into a rock face. The stone walls were layered with animal fur and pine needles to keep the room insulated, and the floor was stone, not dirt. It had one bed, with a ratty mattress and a tattered pillow. A table, and a chair. For Jaune, this was enough.

Now that the first night was over, it was time to take stock. On his person was a backpack, containing rations and water for five days. It also contained a bedroll, - _not that he needed it-_ a lighter, two vials of dust, and a picture of his family. In his pockets he found his scroll - _no signal-_ and wallet - _500 lien-._ He had his sword, shield, and pistol, and five full magazines of bullets. He had seventeen years of experience- training under his family, and with the guardsmen who manned the walls. In his heart, he held hatred, and hope.

He assessed his options. There was the coastline, but that was far, and required going back the way he came. It was too perilous- the Grimm horde was probably still there, and no less dangerous.

To the south were the forests, but he knew like any other child of his village, that dangerous things lived in the forests. King Taijitus, dark, sinuous beasts with sharp teeth and sharper eyes. Lotus Eaters, immobile Grimm with hallucinogenic pollen that destroys the brain from within. Arachnes, spider things with poisonous fangs and a maze of webs miles deep. Worse still, there was always the Myrkvior to consider. That closed off that option.

To his west was a mountain range, perilous, and craggy. The outcroppings likely contained Nevermore nests, and where there were Nevermores, there were Lenores. But beyond that was Vale, the most populous and developed of the cities on the continent of Sanus. It was probable that there would be Bullheads flying past, or outposts to monitor Grimm populations. All options were vastly dangerous, but it was only heading west that gave hope of salvation.

That settled that. He'd figure out what to do when he got there later. His aura was low, and he could feel wakefulness leaving him. Lying down on the bed, he closed his eyes, and tried to forget the shrieks of his friends and family.

His was a dreamless sleep.

* * *

He awoke to birdsong. That meant that the outside was clear, because most animals were hypersensitive to large concentrations of Grimm. The presence of birdsong indicated that the horde had not reached him. Good. He had time to think.

The area outside his temporary shelter was harsher than his home. Given the sharp change in temperature, and the difference in both plant and animal life- _pine trees and snow foxes instead of oak and squirrels-_ , it meant that he was quite far from his origin point. " _How far did I run?"_ was the unsaid question. It made little sense- he was physically fit and talented, but that certainly did not explain the sheer distance he traveled.

Attempting to bring back the memory of the events in between his departure and his arrival at his shelter left him blank. He remembered the vague sensation of his semblance filling his legs, and the courage that came with it, but he could not remember anything else.

His semblance. From the media that Jaune consumed in his childhood, he knew that semblances could be powerful things, displays of power that shook the ground we stand upon. He watched a video once, of a hunter, raising vast formations of earth and stone to form walls as a defensible position against the Grimm. Naturally, the semblances of his peers were clear cut- fire, speed, clones. His was not so.

It was called Luminance, and it allowed Jaune to create light and emanate it from his body. He could exert aura, and the light would turn corporeal, shearing through Grimm flesh and aura. However, he could only control the physical light when it was coiled around his arm or sword, and only on his hand could he control it with finesse. In addition to destroying aura, it could restore aura, and improve the physical condition of the body. Again, it required equivalent exchange in the form of his own aura expenditure. He didn't know what to make of it.

Amongst his peers, his semblance made him both strong and popular. With the hard light, he could best any of them easily, tearing through their aura without restraint. With the healing light, he could patch them up afterwards. With his strong constitution, natural talent, and a large pool of aura, he was a big fish in a small pond. His teachers had recommended him for Beacon.

Jaune shook his head. Thinking about them now would hinder his efficiency, slow his movements with grief or make him reckless with anger. Either was liable to kill you.

He went through his morning ablutions without much zest. He had a long day ahead of him, after all. There was a stream nearby, and he bathed with one eye open. Grimm have a way of sneaking up on you when you least expect it, and have none of the compunctions of humans when it came to nudity. He ate his rations without much enthusiasm. They tasted like granola and self-hatred. Mostly like granola.

Shutting the door to the shelter behind him, he marked the door with searing light of his aura. Open square facing upwards. _It is safe here._ Two parallel lines, and a circle in between. _Thank you._

Idly putting on his boots, he wondered about the person who owned the shelter. It was insulated, meaning that it was created either for long stays, or made specifically for winter time. Either way, it meant that the person who created it both had the survival expertise to know how to insulate a room, the power to carve out a shelter from solid rock, and the need to create something like that. It also meant that the temperature would get much colder. He needed to hurry.

He traversed the boreal forest with practiced ease. His feet stepped lightly over fallen logs and around rock formations. The soil in taiga was thin, much thinner than the nutrient-rich dirt of the plains and fields, but no less easy to walk over. A rustle from the right, slightly to his front. Another directly from behind him. One more from his right, this time much heavier and louder.

Ursai are large, dark, bear-like Grimm. They are black-furred, with bone spikes running along their backs and arms. Possessed of brutal strength, Ursai are familial Grimm, resembling the social structure of bears. There are known to be two varieties: the smaller, weaker Ursa Minor, and the larger, armored Ursa Major. To Jaune's luck, he encountered three of the weaker kind. One, however had splotches of the white armor of Ursa Majors along its neck and legs. That meant that it was old, old enough to gain the power to force metamorphosis.

Escape was no longer an option. He was unfamiliar with the geography of his location, and attempting to run would likely lead him to more Grimm, or a dead end. Fighting now, while he was well-rested was a smarter choice than leaving himself tired and vulnerable to a pack of Grimm. Drawing his sword from its sheath, he turned to face the Grimm. His other hand brought up his shield. Using the gun would make combat awkward, the terrain did not lend itself to accurate nor safe shooting.

There was no need to waste Aura using his semblance; if he fought efficiently, then he could win easily.

The three Grimm lunged at him, claws outstretched. Slow as they are, they were large, and they barreled through rocks and trees to get to him. The smallest of the three reached him first. Ducking under the first swipe, he brought his shield upward in a swift motion, knocking the Grimm off balance. A slash with his sword tore through its unprotected neck, and the body fell, limp.

He turned in time to fend off the other two Grimm. They arrived at the same time, and held some level of coordination to prevent themselves from running in to each other.

He walked backwards, shield bearing the brunt of the attacks. Strikes with his sword kept them back far enough to wait for them to make a mistake. He searched for an open neck, or a vulnerable tendon.

There. An opening in the form of an over-extension from the larger Ursa. It left behind the other with a lunge, leaping at Jaune. With almost vicious satisfaction, he slammed it to the side with his shield. He attacked its neck while it was on the ground, with repeated strikes already having weakened the armor. The large Ursa found itself decapitated in the same fashion as its brethren.

The last one was child's play. Without the threat of being ganged up on, he could be as aggressive as he wanted, viciously forcing it back with each swing of his sword. It fell, missing half an arm and both legs. Just for good measure, he tore its head from its neck as well.

This occurred in under a minute. Most battles did, lacking the drawn-out struggle that books portrayed them to be so. In the world of Remnant, the best fighters were ones that ruthlessly exploited mistakes, and created errors in their opponents. Once a Grimm was vulnerable, it was the responsibility of the hunter to kill it as efficiently and swiftly as possible, in order to conserve energy and maximize lives saved. This was what Jaune was taught in the school he attended, but he was not so sure about the hunting philosophies of other kingdoms.

The last time he saw a hunter contracted for a mission by the village, she and her team were flashy, and comported themselves with an exaggeratedness that befitted a movie star more than a professional soldier. But they did their job, and were paid.

Returning his sword to his sheath, he continued his trek.

* * *

He had been walking for around six hours, and the sun was beginning to descend from its noontime peak. After the first encounter, he hadn't faced much resistance in the forest, with the exception of a particularly pernicious itch on his left thigh.

Now, his surroundings were gaining a rocky appearance, and the trees were giving way to large rock formations, and stone mounds. What once was just a sharpness of quality now was a shortness of breath. He slowed his pace, careful not to strain his lungs. He knew the effects of heavy physical exertion at high altitudes. Your body has to work harder to take in more air, and as a result, you become sluggish and tired more easily. Aura can counteract some of the symptoms, but there is always acute mountain sickness to consider- headaches, nausea, and lethargy. That would be dangerous. Better to play it safe.

Working his way up the mountainous area, he found his first sign of civilization. Rusted, yellow, and metal, the sign stated that there was a path that would lead to an outpost five miles westwards. That was better than nothing.

He walked on. Signs of civilization were rare, especially in the wilderness. He could see why. The eternal threat of the Grimm meant that the position you chose to settle down in had to be defensible and arable. The rocky mountains he found himself in now was hard to defend- it was dangerous, and had many openings through the caves and between the peaks, meaning that both Grimm and bandits could enter easily in the night. Not much could be said of its agricultural potential either. The air was thin, and the dirt was poor in nutrients. Mountain Glenn was destined to fail, regardless of how many hunters or robots they sent to protect it.

Vale -the Kingdom and the city- was a metropolis because it found itself between shallow waters and steep mountains. Proximity to the water meant a sustainable industry of both fishing and agriculture, allowing for population to boom. Because the waters were shallow, larger aquatic Grimm, such as Hydras or Akheilon spawned farther off into the ocean, or were killed by the daily patrols.

The steep mountains formed a steep barrier to prevent the horde of Grimm from entering through the east and south. Nevermores were loathe to leave their nests, and those that did were shot down easily.

Speaking of Nevermores, the avian-type Grimm were beginning to come closer. He doubted they could see him, but it seemed that their migration cycles had led them to this location of the mountain range. This wasn't safe. His sense sharpened to alertness, and kept on walking.

True enough, he found a beaten path, with a circle attached to an arrow inscribed on the wall beside it. _Go this way,_ it meant, and the markings in the traveler's language had not failed him yet. The road led him through a wending path, around deep ravines and through dimly lit caves.

He wondered what it would be like to get lost here. The terrain was dangerous, and it felt as if a single misstep would lead him tumbling to his death. The cave system had many forks and branching paths, and there were traces of human occupation within. Miner's hats, pickaxes, bones. Probably human.

He walked on.

Coming into view, just at the edge of his vision, was the outpost. He could see it- a short, squat structure made of metal built into the mountain. His pace sped up, forsaking stealth for swiftness. He could hear it now, the cry of a Nevermore, far off in the distance. He needed shelter, or help.

The door to the outpost opened easily- the inside of the outpost indicated that there used to be people stationed here. Empty wrappers and dirt littered the floor. A desk and a computer, probably to transmit messages to wherever central command was. His eyes followed the wires coming from the back end of the computer to a second room. The door was marked with a jagged arrow facing downwards inside a triangle. Voltage.

The second room contained a voltage generator that required dust to run. Wordlessly, he poured the contents of the dust vial into the funnel at the top of the black, squat machine. He had seen these before in the manufactories- a 500 gram vial of dust could power a lightbulb for a few hours, so he doubted using the computer to transmit a message would take that much.

The plan was simple- send a "Save Me" message to Vale, and hope they follow through. He pressed the button on top of the generator, and it released a low, whirring noise. Almost instantly, the lights in the dilapidated outpost flickered open, and the computers began to boot up.

It didn't take Jaune long to find the communications application. What surprised him was that someone had messaged _him_.

It read: "SYSADMIN_VALE: Who is this?"

His fingers tapped quickly on the keyboard. "OUTPOST_24: Jaune Arc. Am refugee from village. Need help."

"SYSADMIN_VALE: Requisitioning a Bullhead to your location. ETA in 2 hours."

Just then, the cry of a Nevermore rang out, louder and clearer than the others. Others joined the chorus, the shrieking, keening cry of imminent death.

"SYSADMIN_VALE: Turn off generator. It produces high-pitched noise. Aggravates Grimm."

Jaune looked outside the window, and found himself a full flock of Nevermore, at least 20. With wings outstretched, they fired a salvo of feather spears directly at the shelter. With the lucid clarity of a man facing the sublime power of a typhoon, he threw himself away from the generator. The onslaught of feathers tore through the wall, and ripped apart the desks and computers within. Including the generator.

An explosion blew through the walls of the shelter, knocking Jaune even further back and taking a decent chunk of his aura. Without the metal walls of the outpost, he was completely exposed. With a slow, almost mechanical movement, the eyes of the Nevermore flock swiveled towards his form.

He awakened his semblance once more, courage and warmth filling him to his core. He ripped his sword from its sheath, and pulled his pistol from its holster. To be honest, it was more of a handcannon, firing powerful, recoil-heavy shots at a slow rate. For close-combat, it was dangerous. Against Nevermores, it would do just fine. Better than his shield, which was too small to fully protect his body from the assault of a Nevermore, let alone 20.

The light of his semblance coalesced around his body, forming a shroud that made him look more divine than human. It provided no protection, but the warmth and liquid power that flowed through his body was enough to justify enveloping himself in aura. From the explosion, he had seventy percent of his aura left. The Nevermores, having decided that he was prey, dove towards him, hunger overcoming caution.

He bared his teeth. Fine. If these oversized pigeons wanted a fight, he'd fuck them up just fine.

* * *

Ozpin was having a stressful day. Beacon was receiving a gigantic influx of students, due to the Grimm horde that rampaged through Haven and Shade. Both schools were destroyed by the massive onslaught of high-level Grimm that was seemingly without end. The largest group of Tyrant Scales seen since, well, ever, and even fucking Leviathan showing up at Shade to sink part of the school into the ocean.

The most surprising thing, however, was the total lack of casualties during the attacks. While credit must be given to the evacuation teams for being incredibly efficient, it seemed as if the Grimm weren't seeking out the people themselves. Beowulves forsook vulnerable in prey in search of rooting through classrooms and dorms. Nevermores targeted buildings, not students. Of course, when the schools were destroyed, they returned to their base natures, and now, the formerly populated areas are now Grimm territory.

Currently, hunter squads were being prepared to clear the area to make it safe again.

Regardless of the odd nature of the Grimm attacks, however, there were still campus-less students to teach. Ironwood did not volunteer, citing logistics problems regarding teachers and dorms. Of course, no one in the meeting wanted Atlas Academy to be the backup school, anyway. Mantle was cold, and nobody liked Ironwood anyway.

Thus, the burden fell to Beacon, and therefore Ozpin. Already, new dorms and classrooms were being built by Glynda, and "volunteer" students with requisite strength or helpful semblances. In addition, it was the start of the school year, and he had yet to fulfill his quotient of Machiavellian planning: i.e, getting Miss Rose into Beacon two years early, or letting a former terrorist into the student body.

A notification popped up on the bottom of his screen- one of his informants in the Vale Cross-Continental Transit System Tower, or Vale CCT for short, had sent him the details of a rescue mission regarding a seventeen year old boy in the mountains to the south-east of Vale.

* * *

Mission ID: V_SEM_R_0123

Classification: Rescue

Date: 5/14/49

Requisitioned Materials: 1 (One) Bullhead, 3 (Three) Units of Bullhead fuel, 10 (Ten) Meters of rope

Hunters Contracted: [REDACTED], [REDACTED],

Details:

Signal received from Outpost 24, an outpost known to be abandoned due to logistical problems, as well as the looming threat of a Nevermore horde.

Operator [REDACTED] sent a query regarding the nature of the signal transmitted. The target replied, stating that his name was Jaune Arc, and was a refugee from his village. The Operator, after informing him that a Bullhead was requisitioned, informed him to turn off the generator, due to the model of the generator being a known irritant to common Grimm in the area. The signal cut short soon after.

Mr. Arc was found in critical condition and low aura by the hunters shortly after their arrival at the destination. Stating that they arrived late to see him defeat a horde of Nevermores and a Lenore, he entered the contracted Bullhead without coercion. Medical analysis shows Later inspection of the area (heavily damaged outpost, trace amounts of Grimm residue, and feather tracks on the ground) indicates that his claim is likely true, and that the horde contained upwards of 50 Nevermores. While Mr. Arc's claim that he killed a Lenore lacks proof, both the condition he was in, and the observed migratory cycles of avian-type Grimm lend credence to this claim.

Conclusion: Successful.

* * *

"Well, it appears that I have an interview to schedule. A Lenore, now that's impressive."

* * *

 **Grimm Files: Nevermore**

 **Nevermores are a large avian species of Grimm.**

 **The Nevermore is an avian that has features resembling those of several other bird species. Two notable examples of this are its resemblances to condors and ravens. Like other creatures of Grimm, it has a mask-like, white bony structure overlaying the upper front of its head. It also has four glowing red eyes, two on each side of its head. The headpiece also includes a dorsal spine or fin, reminiscent of that on the heads of Leviathans and Fell Albatrosses.**

 **The Nevermore is capable of** **throwing feathers from its wing, which act like a volley of arrows with an effective range in the hundreds of yards. These feathers are sharp, and are capable of doing damage to an unprepared hunter.**

 **The Nevermore seems to primarily resort to swooping mid-flight towards its target and leading in with its beak, then returning to flight using the downward momentum it gained during the attack. Nevermore also bear talons which they tend not to resort to, most likely relying on their momentum to keep mobile during combat.**

 **While Nevermores vary in size, it is important to note that its feathers are incredibly durable, and sharp around the edges. Size commonly denotes age, and corollary to that, intelligence.**

 **After several decades, Nevermores are known to grow to wingspans of upwards 50 meters. After this point, the Grimm begins to grow armor around its feathers, and gains a massive increase in density, becoming much harder to kill. At this stage, it is called a Lenore, or a Giant Nevermore.**

 **Their growth can be speed up through feeding on dust...**

* * *

 **AU: Hey, I'm not dead!**


	2. Enrollment

**Chapter 2**

 **Enrollment**

 **Disclaimer: Still rusty.**

 **While Jaune starts with a lot stronger here than in canon, let it not be said that I powerwank. The forces that Jaune will face are much larger in scale, and will probably diverge from canon heavily after a few chapters. Consider this giving Frodo a lightsaber, but giving Sauron the Death Star.**

* * *

Vale is a large city on the western coast of the kingdom of Vale. The city of Vale is divided into multiple sectors, having an upper-class district, a commercial district, an industrial district, an agricultural district and a residential district. Taking advantage of its relative safety and proximity to the sea, Vale has no need to outsource raw resources from other sites. With dust mines to the south-east, arable land to the north, and an ocean to the west, Vale became both completely self-sufficient and a marketplace for both goods and ideas.

The perfect conditions for development. Despite relative safety, the necessity to build, to _innovate_ was always there, with the threat of black hordes looming in the back of the collective minds of the masses. While people turn to Atlas for cutting-edge technology and the newest automatons, never let it be said that the industrial district of Vale was content to sit on its haunches. It was not the Atlesians who invented the aqueduct to irrigate the soil of the earth and double their produce, nor was it the Mistralians who invented and popularized the theory of ensouled emotions, the link between the mental state of man and the world around him.

Despite its significant breadth and field of industry, Vale is first and foremost, a city built on trade. Known for being a hub of commerce and mercantilism, it is a melting pot of nationalities and species, with humans and faunus congregating from all over Remnant. With a port that connects to two major cities on the coastline as well as a node through which the Anima-Solitas trade route runs through, merchants often pass by, having to pay tax. Gold is the lifeblood of all cities, and Vale was not lacking in riches.

With trade came foreigners, and with foreigners came new perspectives, communitarian philosophies from Atlas, Mistral's advanced theological dialogues, and Vacuo's radical freedom. Using a metric of populace representation and general democratic principles, the Kingdom of Vale can be said to be the "freest" of the four kingdoms.

While all four major kingdoms are technically run by councils, Vale's is notable for being the least bad. Compare; Atlas' military council hold an iron-tight grip on free-speech, and while there are no official records, political firebrands and revolutionary figureheads have disappeared off the face of Remnant more than once. Mistral's council can be likened to an odd plutocratic/aristocratic hybrid. To be elected and to keep a seat on the council, one generally needs the backing of one of Mistral's many noble families. Corruption and nepotism run deep, and there is no such thing as a lowborn council member. While Vacuo is technically governed by a council representing its people and their interests, the formal government's influence is nominal at best. The Huntsman Academy of Vacuo, Shade, is the only true source of law and order in the Kingdom. Now, with that destroyed by the forces of Grimm, it will be hard to rein in the excesses and abuses that are already rampant int the kingdom.

Vale, while it has its own problems, can at least boast to be the most free of the four kingdoms.

Jaune knew this about Vale, and more- even in a small village like his former home, the histories and political landscapes of the most important kingdoms on Remnant are base curricula required for a basic understanding of the world. Despite not being a genius himself, Jaune was interested in being a hero, and that meant studying up on the history of nations.

That knowledge, however, did not stop him from gaping as he stared out the window of the Bullhead. _A priori_ knowledge from textbooks and encyclopedias did not prepare him for the sight of Vale city. Despite being segmented into five districts and clearly made out of inanimate stone and metal, it seemed as if the city was alive. It writhed and shook with the vibrancy of a creature that sought to grow and swell. It _sprawled_ , tendrils of iron and industry snaking into the country side, raging against its natural barriers of ocean and stone. Were he a photographer, perhaps this would have been the shot that made him famous.

His mind, overwhelmed by sensation, almost forgot the tragedy that occurred not longer than two days ago. With the errant thought, Jaune's mood soured. His parents were gone. His home destroyed, and his peers slaughtered. If his sisters were there, then perhaps they could have-!

Jaune stopped himself from delving too far into his hate. " _Stay rational,"_ he thought. The chain of culpability did not extend so far as to blame his sisters for having lives of their own. They could not possibly have known the impending tragedy, nor taken actions to stop it. It was not their fault, nor was it his.

Only the Grimm's.

Yet it still hurt. He was alone now, and his sisters were off doing whatever, on extended missions, or at their jobs.

" _It will be fine."_

He ignored the crushing feeling of loneliness and despair.

" _You are safe now."_

Somehow, that didn't make him feel any better. His semblance, responding to some subconscious facet of his mind, rose to his call. Warmth filled his bones from the ground up, and he closed his eyes. The confidence and hope that marked his power's rise felt tainted and fake, like the sickly sweet of cough syrup, or the lull of morphine. Then, after seeming to war with itself, even the hazy facade fell away, leaving only burning fury. He felt like he was burning up from the inside out, and his bones replaced with molten metal. He released his grip on the handrail, noticing burn marks on the metal.

Panicking, Jaune forced it down. Repressed it. It receded immediately, a deep cold taking its place.

He opened his eyes.

* * *

"In light of recent events concerning your arrival to Vale city, I'd like to offer you a scholarship to Beacon Academy."

Jaune was fairly confused. After arriving at Vale, he was met by a a middle-aged man with tousled silver hair and focused brown eyes, introducing himself as Ozpin, the headmaster of Beacon Academy. He waited patiently for a response. The problem being, that Jaune was an awkward teenager recently rescued from a traumatic situation being given an offer that would change the course of his life.

He didn't know what to say.

"Uh, I don't know what to say." Jaune said, unsure of what to say.

An understanding tone found its way into Ozpin's voice. "I understand. You are overwhelmed by an important decision that would change the course of your life, after so recently being thrust from your home. You are disoriented, and probably unsure of what to say."

Jaune was looking off into the distance with the countenance of a man who was desperately trying not to fall asleep.

"You do not seem traumatized, however."

Jaune's eyes darkened. He swiveled to lock eye contact with Ozpin. "I'm still running high on adrenaline and aura. I don't think that I've fully caught up with the loss of _my home and family_ _._ Sorry if I don't feel so attentive right now."

Now, Ozpin's voice was sympathetic. Perhaps, Ozpin thought, that he had been too eager in coercing him to join Beacon. "I apologize. I did not understand the full weight of happened to you. If you want to take some time to make a decision, I will gladly give it to you."

"No, I'll go to Beacon. I was planning on applying anyway, and I think my parents would have wanted me to come here."

There was no proper response to this- given the context of the situation. An "Alright" or a "You won't regret your decision" felt a little bit pithy, insufficient in the face of the tragedy he just faced. Ozpin recognized this, and remained silent. Then, he began to walk towards the Bullhead port.

"Hey, wait, where are you going?"

Ozpin looked back at Jaune.

"To your new school. Want a ride?"

Jaune jogged after the peculiar man. After walking for two straight days, he was _not_ going to let a free ride escape his grasp.

"Hey, wait up!"

* * *

Situated just before a cliff's edge, Beacon Academy overlooks the city across a body of crystal clear water. At the top edge of the cliffside are several large, circular aerial docking bays, where airships and Bullheads can dock and allow their passengers to disembark. At the base of the cliffs, a docking bay, available for water-going surface vessels, and a path from there leads upwards to the top of the cliff. The academy itself looked like a castle, with large, sweeping arcs, and spires of marble and ivory.

Following the end of the Great War, Beacon Academy had been founded along with the other three Huntsmen academies in order to train Huntsmen and Huntresses to slay the Creatures of Grimm. In the 80 years since the founding of the Academy, Beacon has trained generations of Huntsmen and Huntresses, raising legends and heroes alike.

More than that, Beacon was a symbol, embedded in Valean culture as a shining jewel of hope. To most people, Beacon represented the impossible dream of salvation from Grimm, and the unfaltering conviction that humanity would carry on. It was the undercurrent of optimism that showed itself in pop culture, media, and stories. It was the motivation to survive, the force behind innovation, and the dream of hope. Beacon, and by proxy, its hunters, were the glue of Vale, that which kept it from falling to despair and kept the intricate gears of society spinning.

If Vale city could be summed up in the word "sprawling" then Beacon Academy would be best called "idyllic". The grass, the clouds, the buildings, were all so much more _real_ than anything he had ever seen before. Drenched in the color of perfection, with the aftertaste of a nostalgia for days gone by. It was as if he had been living in a painting-world all his life, then suddenly ejected into the real world. Even the swaying of the trees and the movement of the clouds were imperceptibly more detailed, with each shivering leaf and wisp of wind crystal clear in his eyes.

However, there were large sections being rebuilt, with large slabs of stone and marble being lifted into the air and placed onto similar structures.

Ozpin seemed to have noticed Jaune's curiosity regarding the reconstruction. As if hearing the question in Jaune's mind, Ozpin answered.

"We're rebuilding the academy to add a host of new classrooms and dorms. Both Haven and Shade were destroyed very recently in Grimm attacks, and the burden now falls to Beacon to act as the guiding light for the displaced students. Luckily, we have contracted the aid of hunters with telekinetic semblances, as well as competent engineering staff to speed the process along quite heavily. The new buildings should be done just before the start of the school year."

Jaune stared at him, both amazed and confused at Ozpin's seeming ability to read his mind.

"I will take your silence for gratitude for my informative and helpful lecture."

Despite his facial muscles not moving an inch, Jaune's awed stare turned into a deadpan. Truly, a powerful skill.

Before he could come up with a witty retort, the Bullhead shook with the turbulence of landing. The door of the airship opened with a hiss, and Ozpin strode out, unfazed by the dust cloud caused by the landing. Turning his head to look at Jaune, who was still inside the Bullhead, Ozpin spoke with the infuriating ineffability of a man who cared to tell you only enough to mess with you.

"It appears that we've landed. Come along now, let's get you settled in."

Still speechless, Jaune followed.

The rest of the day felt like a blur.

. . .

As Jaune flopped on his temporary dorm bed, his thoughts began to wander. What had caused his semblance earlier to mess up like that? His semblance awoke, latent power thrumming, awaiting his command. It flowed into him once more, filling him with a genuine sense of hope. It was the same as all the other times he used it back at home. The burning fury did not materialize this time.

" _What changed?"_

Thinking on it, he started eliminating variables. Aura level was out, as was physical condition. His strength on the airship was the same then as it was now. A little bit worn out from the administrative ordeals that came with registering at a school, but he had used his semblance while he was at full strength several times before, and this had never happened.

The location seemed possible at first, but the same logical problem arose. He had used his semblance in different locations several times before, both at his old home, and on his journey to Vale.

Perhaps the variance of his emotional state was more logical, given the stark contrast in his mood on the airship and now. The theory of ensouled emotions lent credence to this, the idea that aura and semblances respond more strongly in times of strong emotion. Again, however, it fell to the same rebuttal- he had used his semblance to calm himself at home when getting worked up, or to bolster his determination on the trek in the mountains.

 _Perhaps the journey had evolved his semblance._ It was not unheard of, for people to go through traumatic experiences, or a resolution of the heart, and come out with radically different semblances. He willed the light to form around his hand with practiced expertise. His semblance was obedient, as it always was, shimmering a faint white.

 _Burn._ The mental command resounded in his mind, and the light around his hand intensified. It was scorching, like putting his hand inside a toaster, or perhaps a furnace. He felt the warmth, and drowned in it- the light carried a different kind of intoxication from earlier. It was pulsing, with the beat of war drums or blood spurting from a torn artery. He was ready to fight, and to kill. He felt fire in his blood and in his bones, like his innards had been turned into a furnace, seeking to _get out._ He wanted to go back, to take vengeance on the Grimm and to dive in to the sea of black and hack and slash and kill and _burn_.

It was the smoking of his bed that snapped him out of his trance-like hate. The fire receded immediately, replacing itself with the more familiar light of hope. He cut off his semblance, scared of falling too deep into that hole.

" _Well,"_ he thought wryly, " _at least I don't have to bring a lighter around anymore."_

Another trick added to his arsenal. Logically, this would be a cause for joy. A new facet to his semblance, with the power to burn and scorch intensely. Jaune forced himself to calm down manually, taking deep breaths. It wasn't a cause for joy. It was terrifying, like having a leash on a hurricane and wanting to _just let go_. He wondered if it would burn people from the inside too, if he used it the same way he restored aura. He wondered if he could burn himself from the inside out. It wouldn't be the first time someone's semblance turned against him.

His hands were shaking as he turned the lights off.

* * *

Jaune's eyes snapped open to see smoke on the horizon.

His home was burning. The air was acrid with the scent of sulfur and burnt flesh.

His home was burning. He saw his parents, almost tiny in the shadow of a Tyrant Scale.

His home was burning. He saw his classmates, faces set in grim lines and harsh contours.

His home was burning. He saw the guardsmen, stoic in the face of a sea of black. His home was burning. Why was no one running?

His home was burning. Why did he get to run? Why did he get to live, when he was the most cowardly out of all of them?

His home was burning. He was outside, because he lost a bet for some inane shit he no longer cared to remember.

His home was burning. It had something to do with running laps around the village.

His home was burning. He lived by chance.

His home was burning. It was so _senseless,_ so meaningless!

As if the forces of fate conspired to make him the lucky one.

As if he deserved to live. Fuck. He could feel it too. The burning. His home. Burning.

The inferno surrounded him, consuming him, in the same way he felt his semblance.

The hot, pulsing hatred that reminded him of tribal drums and screams filled him from the ground up, from the bone out.

He was filled with molten iron, and lava, and liquid sun.

It was crushing him.

Beating him down with waves of heat and constant, heavy pressure.

Compressing him to a single point of agony.

There.

Jaune woke listlessly. He could feel the telltale signs of his receding semblance, the coldness in his bones and the gap in his aura level. It was 2 o'clock in the morning. He closed his eyes, willing his semblance- _the good part-_ to fill him with hope. To shake off that sense of impending doom, the despair of losing your home and waking in an unfamiliar bed, and the fear that the walls are beginning to close in on you-

This time, Jaune did not dream.

* * *

The next day was important. It was the arrival date of the hunter-in-training-to-be(s). Jaune wasn't sure of the plural to that.

" _Today is when I get some real life human interaction."_ Jaune thought, coming to the realization that the only people he had talked to after the - _inferno inferno inferno-_ was Ozpin and the hunters on the Bullhead, and they didn't count. Ozpin was a jackass, and the hunters were more miffed about wasting their time than interested in talking to some teenager.

It was 8 o'clock. Jaune went through his morning ablutions with the same enthusiasm he had while in the forest.

" _That says something,"_ Jaune mused, noting his new hatred for the morning sun. Putting on a plain grey shirt and a pair of jeans he found in the closet, he set off for the cafeteria. He found Ozpin, cradling a mug of coffee and staring out at the arriving Bullheads.

"Don't you have headmaster-y things to do?" Jaune asked.

"Yes, I do."

"Wait, then why are you-"

"Because I am the most powerful man on campus, and as such have the power to delegate menial duties to lackeys."

"Don't you have to sign things, like personally?"

Ozpin simply stared at him. "So?"

The younger of the two shook his head, and entered the cafeteria.

It appeared that the dining hall shared the same theme as the rest of the school. Like all parts of the academy buildings, the dining hall was distinctly Valean Gothic in appearance. The walls, marked with the academy's crossed-ax logo, have a fresh sheen of paint.

Currently, they were serving pancakes for breakfast.

" _Fine by me."_ Having no particular compunctions, Jaune bit into his breakfast with much gusto. It tasted average- as if someone took the mean of all pancakes to have ever been served, and condensed it onto his plate. The overly-sweet syrup made it slightly more bearable, but only slightly. Idly gnawing on a piece of pancake, he checked his scroll for recent news.

White Fang Raids Dust Warehouse, Two Injured.

Chew. Nothing new of note. The White Fang had been doing this for a while, and don't seem to show signs of stopping. The article calls for more aggressive preemption in the form of invasive surveillance policies.

A Critical Analysis on Beacon Elitism.

Chew. A fairly interesting article, on the culture of Beacon and similar phenomena. The article concludes stating that the arrogance was not exclusive to Beacon, but instead internalized in the general pool of hunters.

Top Ten Huntsmen- You Won't Believe Who's at Number 1~!

Chew. Utter trash.

Grimm Raid Destroys Village.

Chew.

Jaune closed his eyes, focusing on the aura in his body to keep him calm. Inhale. Exhale.

Finished with his food, he exited the way he came in. On the way out, he noticed that Ozpin was no longer by the entrance of the cafeteria. Fine by him. The headmaster had probably decided to do his job, Jaune decided. He checked his scroll. 8:30. That meant he had around 10 hours before he was required to go to Beacon's Main Hall for the welcoming ceremony.

His incoming batchmates wouldn't be here for a few hours anyway, so he had some time to wander around. He had wanted to check out the shooting range and training field since yesterday, but hadn't had the time nor the mental energy to do so. Pulling out the map one of the staff had given him, he ambled towards their general direction.

The architecture of Beacon Academy was remarkably anachronistic. While containing the odds and ends necessary to a modern institution such as electrical wiring and WiFi, thank god, it kept the overarching aesthetic of a Valean Gothic castle. It drew features from the original Gothic style, including decorative patterns, finials, scalloping, lancet windows, hood mouldings, and label stops.

The Goths were a people from East Solitas who migrated from its inhospitable climate in search of warmer lands. At their peak, they dominated a vast area, which at its peak under the Gothic king Ermanaric and his sub-king Athanaric possibly extended all the way from what was current-day Vale to the northern tip of Solitas. Their downfall came after Ermanaric died without an heir, causing the partitioning of their empire by rival kingdoms. The Huns from the east, a hodgepodge of faunus tribes from the west, and a resurgence from the north with Mantlean separatists seeking freedom. The Gothic peoples were soon assimilated without a central figure or culture hero to rally to, but their influence lived on in the form of art, culture and most relevantly, architecture.

Jaune knew this for one primary reason: a burning interest in history and the actors that shape it. His defining ambition was to be a hero; the kind of person who people rallied behind and whose actions shaped the course of history. Another life would have him foolishly chase his dream by sneaking into Beacon and lagging behind his classmates. Here, his upbringing in a family of hunters and exposure to a harsh political climate allowed him to grasp the true nature of greatness- one that did not simply look at the "great man" theory of history, but the kind that understood the range of complex variables which determined revolution, war, and peace.

Mistralian philosopher Thomas Carlyle stated that "The history of the world is but the biography of great men", reflecting his belief that heroes shape history through both their personal attributes and divine inspiration.

His contemporary Herbert Spencer rebutted this, stating "You must admit that the genesis of a great man depends on the long series of complex influences which has produced the race in which he appears, and the social state into which that race has slowly grown... Before he can remake his society, his society must make him."

Both were valid claims, that change was dependent on a vast number of variables: cultural narratives, economic prosperity, and the hopes and dreams of the downtrodden, but also that great men did shape history and the geography of the land, with examples of Vacuoan warrior kings springing to mind. Jaune intended to be that kind of person, the kind that people debate about in a thousand years' time.

Arriving at the shooting range, he pulled out his trusty pistol-that-was-more-like-a-cannon. A Schnee Model 1873 Single-Action New Model Army Metallic Cartridge Revolving Pistol bought at an army depot meant for guardsmen. It fed ammunition via the rotation of a cartridge-filled cylinder, in which each cartridge is contained in its own dust ignition chamber, and is sequentially brought into alignment with the weapon's barrel. The bullets fired were powerful, incredibly so, tearing through metal and Grimm bone plates with relative ease. The downside it brought was a lack of long-range and the time it took to reload.

Being an older model, when large, legendary Grimm were more common (for a sense of the word), and the Grimm tactic of "sea of black" was not yet in full force, the gun was designed to be more powerful than newer editions, which sacrificed power for reliability and strength.

While Jaune wasn't exactly a sharpshooter, he could hit a target with consistency, and had a steady arm to fire with. He primed the gun with a dextrous motion, lining up the sight and cocking the hammer back at the same time. Then, he fired, with the shoulder of the human-shaped target being torn off.

 _Again._

The next shot hit closer to the chest, but not yet a bull's-eye.

 _Again._

The next shot hit the clavicle bone. Not a bull's-eye.

 _Again._

There. A bull's-eye.

 _Again._

In another life, Jaune would be driven by a desire to leave the shadow of the Arc legacy and make a name for himself.

 _Again._

In this life, Jaune was driven by an aching despair to eradicate the Grimm. An intensity that filled his bones with energy and his heart with hatred shaped his ambition into a single, uncompromising point.

Protect his friends. Protect humanity, and faunus kind. Make sure this never happens again, to anyone else.

 _Again._

 _Never again._

* * *

After the oddly melodramatic shooting range experience, he decided next to try some warm ups in Beacon's training room. The training room was probably unoccupied, with the teachers and students currently preoccupied with preparing for the students' arrival at Beacon, or simply being asleep by virtue of it being still 10:00 and a non-school day.

The training was boring, but helped him keep his muscles in shape- it wouldn't do to become flabby. He liked having washboards abs and sick biceps. You'd think that by now, he'd deserve the right to be a little bit vain.

As he turned to walk back to his room, his Scroll received a text. This was weird, primarily because everyone who had his number in his village was _dead_ , and he was sure that he didn't give his number to Ozpin. Thus, the sender of the text: Violet Arc.

Jaune had seven sisters, Blanc, Rose, Violet, Noir, Vert, Argent, and Azure, each sibling only a year or two apart, with the cute naming scheme of Gallic Valean colors. Jaune was the runt, born four years after Azure, the youngest of the sisters. Each one of them a successful hunter, the elite of their generation, and highly sought after by companies and institutions. Blanc, Rose, and Noir worked as professional contractors, taking extermination missions on a regular basis which lasted for months on end. Azure was a specialist in the Atlesian army, and Violet was a teacher in Atlas Academy. Vert and Argent were heavily involved in the geopolitical situation of Vacuo, resolving internecine conflicts between warring clans, and participating in Grimm hunts.

It made sense that Violet would be the first to receive the news, given that as a teacher, she would be the least likely to take on a mission. It read:

 _FROM: Violet Arc_

 _TO: Jaune Arc_

 _I heard about what happened from Ozpin, about the attack on home and the Nevermores. I will visit you in Beacon as soon as time permits. Given the current mission schedule, I will get a week's leave from Headmaster Ironwood in about a month, so stay strong._

 _I love you._

Jaune closed his eyes, unsure of how to feel. Happy, that his sister loved him and was willing to spend her leave with him. Annoyed, that he would have to wait a month to see her. Angry, that she wasn't here yet, and that she wasn't there for them- And, always, the underlying current of despair.

It was confusing, and as mature as Jaune was, he was still a teenager. He needed time for the emotions to subside, and to process how he felt about a situation. He wasn't a robot, could never be a robot.

A pause, a lapse in the action.

Then, an explosion. Or at least, the sound of an explosion. Strength entering his legs, he sprinted towards the origin of the noise- the courtyard. There he saw the milling crowd of aspiring hunters, and in the center, a duo. A small girl, clothed in red, and another in white. The one in white was covered in soot, and was shouting at the younger one. He caught part of the conversation.

"-ou complete dolt! What are you even doing here? Aren't you a little young to be attending Beacon? _"_

"Well, I-I..."

"This isn't your ordinary combat school. It's not just sparring and practice, you know!"

Feeling a bit sorry for the girl, he decided to step in. It's not like it could get any worse, right?

"Hey," he said, stepping into the conversation, "I heard an explosion from inside the training fields. Is anyone hurt?"

The girl turned to him, glare still in place. "Just me, after this idiot _sneezed_ on a vial of dust and blew it up in my face!"

Just then, a cat faunus in black approached them, vial in hand. "Here," she said curtly, and handed it to me. I held it closer to my eye. The cap was screwed on very loosely, and with a tilt, a small amount of red dust fell out.

"It looks like the cap was just screwed on loosely. No harm done nor intended, so let's just calm down, ok." Jaune saturated the air with his aura- allowing it to seep and mingle with the ambient aura of others.

The girl looked back at him, scrutinizing him a bit harder. "Fine. I-" she hesitated, clearly not wanting to back down. "I _apologize_ for being harsh with you."

He turned to the smaller girl, who was looking at him with no small amount of awe. "Uh, yeah, I apologize as well, for, y'know, exploding and stuff."

Then, he turned to the faunus, who just shrugged. The girl in white turned quickly, and walked away with a slight huff.

An awkward pause.

Eager to break the silence, the girl in red said excitedly, "Hi! My name is Ruby Rose! Thanks, for, uh, being cool and stuff."

"It was my pleasure. I'm Jaune Arc, nice to meet you." He extended his arm in the form of handshake, as his father always taught him. In politics, there was no need for pussyfooting around if you crushed his arm, he recalled his father saying.

After looking at the hand for an awkward half-second, she shook it with exaggerated force, blushing bright red.

The faunus interjected, "Arc, as in Argent Arc, the figurehead for the Silver Wings movement in Vacuo?"

Jaune smiled brightly. "Yeah, I'm her younger brother." He said with a faux-whisper- "Don't tell anyone, but she can't do her chores to save a life."

A faint half-smile on her face. "I'm Blake Belladonna, and I've admired your sister for her success in pushing for greater policy change in Vacuo."

"I'll make sure to tell her that, Blake. It's nice to meet you too. Anyway, you guys are going to the Welcoming Ceremony, right? The main hall should be this way." said Jaune, beginning to walk down the main path of the courtyard. He turned his head, and saw the two were following suit.

"Thanks! Uh, yeah." replied Ruby, face still red. "Uhh, how long have you been studying at Beacon?"

"I'm an incoming freshman, just like you."

"Uhh..."

Jaune chuckled good-naturedly, finding her awkwardness funny.

"H-hey, don't laugh at me! It was an honest mistake."

Blake spoke up. "He's not wearing a uniform, just like us, and he's not a teacher. It would make sense for him to be a freshman too."

"Not you too!"

Blake, while not outright laughing, certainly had a smile on her face as well. Even Ruby, bouncing back with a sunny disposition, was smiling.

 _Hey, maybe it won't be so bad after all._

The formation of new bonds is the first step to healing the ones torn away from you.

* * *

 **GRIMM REPORT**

 **Beowolves**

 **Beowolves** are large, dark, werewolf-like creatures of Grimm.

While Beowolves vary from location to location, all incarnations share certain common traits. Consistently, Beowolves stand on their hind legs, albeit with a slouch, and are extremely muscular. They attack like a regular wolf would, with clawing and lunges, and no special skills or abilities demonstrated as of yet.

They are extremely agile, using powerful muscles to launch themselves at prey, and quick reflexes to respond adeptly to new situations.

Their behavior varies depending on age. Younger Beowolves do not act like normal wolves, lacking any sense of self-preservation. They relentlessly attack no matter how hurt they are or how many of their pack members are slain. Older Beowolves gain a sense of self-preservation like normal wolves and eventually become more intelligent than them, observing their allies, retreating when needed and developing strategies for future encounters against Huntsmen and other threats.

When Beowolves hit an as of yet undiscovered threshold, they become **Alpha Beowolves.** Alpha Beowolves are a much more dangerous, armored version of the Beowolf. Alphas are easily capable of destroying automated drones, literally ripping them apart, or outsmarting their rudimentary AI. Unlike the standard Beowolves which are easily dispatched in droves by trainee Huntsmen and Huntresses, they are a foe to be wary of by even an experienced huntsman.

* * *

 **AN: The first divergence from canon! Blake is openly a faunus here, and Jaune doesn't totally mess up in front of the ladies. Next chapter, you're going to see some characters who were supposed to be in other schools (ABRN, BRNZ, NDGO, and SSSN) interact! Wahoo.**


	3. Survival

**Chapter 3**

 **Survival**

 **Disclaimer: Not getting any less rusty.**

 **AN: I will refrain from using OCs too much, but I will use them to fill gaps in the story. As said, many, if not all of the students Jaune will interact in his year with are characters shown in RWBY canon. Sadly, the same cannot be said for existing hunters, family, or older students, given RWBY's habit of refusing to world build except in broad strokes.**

* * *

A hunter has three ways to self-improvement. The first is the acquisition of technical and combat skills- learning martial arts, and improving efficiency of motion. This takes time and effort, but pays great dividends, acting as a multiplier for existing physical strengths.

Second, is the strengthening of the body- gaining muscle strength, stamina, and hand-eye coordination. The power of the material realm mostly stems from the condition of your physical body; if you cannot act, then you will not be able to use your martial arts skills. Improving the body opens up other options in the form of more strenuous training regimens, or more risky techniques.

The last is the refinement of the soul. This takes place in three primary ways: semblances, aura efficiency, and aura content. The semblance is self explanatory: the longer and more often you use a semblance, the stronger and more diverse it becomes. A hunter that begins with the ability to shoot fire out of their hands may end up gaining the power to imbue objects with a blazing edge, or invoking a fiery rage in unsuspecting victims. This also occurs when a fundamental aspect of a person is irrevocably damaged or changed. While not true for all hunters, some souls are more malleable than others.

Aura efficiency is defined as the capacity to draw out the most amount of aura possible from the soul. As far as the extent of human knowledge goes, aura efficiency can only be improved by meditation and prolonged training. However, the faunus warlords of old have been known to use aura with near maximum efficiency, suffocating entire battlefields with just the weight of their souls.

Aura content in turn is how much aura your soul contains- like aura efficiency, this can also be trained through meditation and prolonged training. While there is no scientific basis, there has been a general trend of aura increase after hardship, lending credence to a theory that aura content is directly tied to the "resilience of the soul".

Jaune predicted that if that theory were true, his aura content should have doubled by now. After they had arrived at the main hall, Ruby's "sister" (who was blonde and carried more Valean racial features in comparison to Ruby's Mistralian build, Jaune highly doubted that they were related) had hailed the trio over. Then Ozpin along with two other adults walked up to the stage, and gave the _most boring speech he had ever heard._

Ozpin said something about applying his talents...? He didn't listen, and frankly, listening to Ozpin talk for ten minutes about dedication did not appeal to him in any sense of the word. Jaune was half-asleep at this point, head bobbing and desperately trying to stay awake. To his left, Blake was reading a book and Ruby looked positively enamored with the speech.

Then, one of the other two headmasters went up to give their speech. Jaune gave up hope at this point, and dozed off. He dreamed of fighting in _glorious battle,_ crushing many small Ozpin-faced Goliaths in his wake.

A tap on his shoulder woke him from his nap. He looked up to see a pair of vivid green eyes staring back at him. With the bleary cognizance of a man just woken, he noticed two things. One, Blake, Ruby, and Yang were hiding behind a pair of chairs to his far left. Two, the girl in front of him was in the process of reeling back, a bright red blush on her face.

"Can I help you?" Jaune said in the murmur of half-sleep. While training at home required waking up at early hours, a morning person Jaune was not. And while it was not currently morning, the principle of being groggy when woken still applied.

The red-headed girl was clearly struggling to formulate a response. "Well, you see, uh- your friends asked me to wake you up!" She pointed to the obviously-trying-not-to-be-obvious cluster of people at the edge of his peripheral vision.

"We thought it would be funny!" Yang chimed in, opinion incredibly unwelcome from Jaune's point of view.

"Well, I'm awake now." the blond boy stood up, dusting the sleep from his eyes. "I'm Jaune Arc, nice to meet you, uh..." he trailed off.

Miss Sleep Destroyer looked befuddled, as if she had never been required to give her name before. Then, seeming to come to a resolution, she replied. "I'm Pyrrha Nikos, it's nice to meet you too."

Jaune felt like he was missing out on something. He squinted at her, scrutinizing her figure. She wore elaborate bronze greaves, a pair of cuisses, and a bronze, strapless top. Armor. A hunter usually did not wear armor unless they were the "tank" of the squad, or could move comfortably within it. She was either skilled or a fool. The faint aura he could feel emanating from her accessories made the "skilled" theory more credible. It took time to learn how to fight with aura implements.

"Right."

" _I am too sleepy to deal with this."_

Closing his eyes, he circulated his aura to regain wakefulness. Nothing woke you up like a semblance-fed injection of 500 ccs of pure JUSTICE and HOPE into his muscles. When he opened his eyes, he saw his friends staring at him openly. "What?" Jaune said, feeling a little bit out of place.

Blake chose this time to speak. "You closed your eyes and started glowing." What? How was this weird? People glow all the time.

"Oh, that's just an aura exercise to remove drowsiness." Jaune answered, hoping that this was true, and not something specific to his semblance.

The peanut gallery "aahed". Aura usually explained most unexplainable things. Experienced aura users could fly, shoot lasers, and heal injuries- almost like gods among men. Called sages, hunters of this level are very rare- mostly found in sparse quantities in Mistral and the rare hermit in the Vacuoan wastes.

"Teach me how to do that sometime, sleepyhead." Yang, said, mostly to fill the silence.

Beat.

"Hey, it's a good nickname!" she said indignantly.

Beat.

In the distance, Miss Goodwitch could be seen ushering students into the ballroom.

Beat.

"Sleepyhead? Whatever, let's just get to wherever Miss Goodwitch wants us to go." With a pivot and a half-smile, he strode towards the exit.

* * *

"It's like a big slumber party!" Yang exclaimed, donning ursa-patterned pajamas and an exuberant smile. It was almost curfew, but most of the students were still up and socializing.

"I don't think Dad would approve of all the boys, though." Ruby looked up, and saw several of the male students flexing and generally displaying their masculinity. Just then, Jaune entered the ballroom, with a stormy look on his face. "Hey, that's Jaune."

Blake then entered the conversation. "Didn't he say on the way here that he had his own room at Beacon? What happened to that?"

Scowl lightening, he made his way over to them. "Hey guys," he offered, mostly as a conversation starter. He had a backpack in one hand, and a bedroll under his other arm.

"So," Yang said, with a sleazy grin on her face, "What happened to that dorm room of yours, huh? Thought you were too good to sleep in the same room as _plebeians_ like us?"

"Oh, Ozpin said something about "Having to socialize with other people my age" and "Forming generational camaraderie" as if that smug coffee guzzler knew the meaning of personal space." Jaune's face twisted into a grimace for a split second, then returned to a placatory smile. "Well, better you guys than some strangers, I guess."

"So," Ruby started, stretching out her "o"s, "Do you like weapons?"

Beside her, Yang put her face in her hands. Slightly muffled, Jaune could hear a pained " _That's not how you talk to boys..."_

 _"_ Yeah, I like my weapons, I guess. They're pretty useful for doing weapon-y stuff."

"Can I see, can I see?" Ruby asked excitedly. At this point she was leaning closely in the direction of Jaune. Even Blake looked vaguely interested in what Jaune had to show.

"Yeah, sure. Let me just put my stuff down." Setting down his bedroll beside Blake's (which was against the wall) he sat on the edge of his bed. Here, he pulled out a sword, a shield, and a revolver.

Ruby crawled over, eyes in the shape of stars.

"You've done it now, Jaune. You're never gonna hear the end of "weapons, weapons, weapons," with her." added Yang, with a wry smile.

"Ignore my foolish sister. What do _these_ do?" said Ruby.

"Well, the sword and shield are run-of-the-mill weaponry. I got them at the army depot back in my home town, so they're not really worth looking at. Basic sword-and-board combo. The revolver is what I'm really proud of though. This baby can tear the wing off a Nevermore from over 50 feet away." Jaune gestured to his weapons in turn.

Ruby held the side of the revolver close to her eye. "This is a really old model. Almost fifty years before the Great War, even! Is it single-action or double-action?"

"Single-action. Self-cocking mechanisms leave the gun too fragile to fire the kinds of bullets I use."

"Really!? What caliber?"

"Well..."

As the two devolved into gun-related conversation, Blake turned back to her book. Just as she felt herself really getting immersed into the book's plotline, she heard Yang wave someone over. It was Pyrrha, in plain striped pajamas, and a small crowd of people following her.

"Hello," she waved back from afar. Even from here, Blake could see the strain visible on the girl's face.

Yang nudged Ruby. "Hey, it's Pyrrha."

"Hi, Pyrrha!" Ruby waved.

Jaune turned to look at Pyrrha as well. Taking in the small crowd, he leaned in to Blake. "Is she famous or something?"

Blake looked at him like he was mad. "She's the four-time champion of the Mistralian National Duelists' Championship, and probably the strongest of our generation."

Duelling tournaments in Remnant were held yearly, with victors being crowned as champion of that region. There were three main categories, with the first being for ages 10-18. The second, or the inter-varsities, were for those still in Hunting Academies. The third, or the opens, were for actual hunters. All competitions were incredibly hard to win, first pulling from the top sixteen in a preliminary, then having break rounds to determine the champion.

He looked back at the girl in question.

"Cool."

Then, he tilted his head up. In a clarion voice, both conversational and serious, he spoke. "Hey Pyrrha, what's with all the groupies?"

The ballroom turned silent. Eyes turned to the source of the statement. Scrolls were raised, both videotaping the event, and checking the background of this "Jaune Arc" person. While Beacon was not as highly politicized as other schools, both Haven and Shade were known for extending inter-nobility and internecine conflict into the school ground. That meant assessing the caliber of your opponents, and analyzing them for mistakes- information was power, and power-hungry was the nature of an environment as this. Jaune was an unknown variable, and as such warranted research.

One of the groupies stepped forward. "Hey, who do you think you are?"

Subconsciously, his aura flowed into the air around him. The air shimmered with an invisible heat-haze, both there and not. The pressure in his vicinity increased immensely, with some finding it harder to breath. The shadows around Jaune grew a little bit darker, and he could feel his own heart beating with the drum-rhythm of war. "Just a friend."

Reluctantly, the crowd behind Pyrrha scattered. The aura around Jaune immediately receded, and the heat-haze disappeared. Yang swivelled to stare at Jaune. "What was that?"

"I'm not sure." All he had intended to do was to use the courage facet of his semblance to make sure he himself wouldn't back down, and yet, an entirely different result had appeared. "This has never happened before."

"Thanks," said Pyrrha, visible relief on her face. "Those glory seekers have been following me around for a while now."

"Uh, right..."

"Anyways," Pyrrha continued, polite smiles and all, "Do you mind if I sleep next to you, Jaune? I think they'll stay away if you do... whatever you did."

"Yeah, sure, sure."

The night went on, its memory meant to be forgotten, but the bonds made to last.

* * *

Jaune woke, gasping for air. The same dream, of fire and pressure, crushing him into a single point of agony. Looking down at himself, he noticed that he was glowing white with the hazy heat of his soul. _Again._ This time was less severe, though. His bed was distinctly less on fire this time.

He looked at his scroll. _6:30._ Well, he wasn't going to get any sleep now. Putting on a shirt, he picked up his backpack and headed towards the training room. It was good to exercise early, when the facilities weren't so crowded. As an awkward teenager, he erred on the side of "please don't look at me" in the "look at me all the time" vs "please don't" dichotomy that most pubescent children fell into.

Opening the door to the training room, he found a dark-skinned, blonde girl mid-leap over a Spider Droid. Firing bolts of aura from her palm, she rocketed to the other side of the room before destroying the bot from the back with a flick of a rope dart.

Panting silently, she stepped to the side, and sat on one of the benches lining the room. Nodding in that same silent language, Jaune pressed the button for an AK-130. The Atlesian Knight- 130 is a type of robot created to act as security for most of Remnant's institutions. Humanoid in shape, and a metallic dark-gray in color, they possess wrist-mounted blades that also have red aura distributors along their length as well as an incredibly efficient power source, allowing them to act as cheap security for many buildings in Vale and Atlas.

They were the main kind of bot contracted by Jaune's home, and as such were the training partner he was most used to. Jaune threw himself against them (when his sisters weren't around to train him) until he was strong. Strong enough to tear them in half with a swipe of his sword or with glowing hand. Still not strong enough.

Also, they were significantly more advanced than Spider Droids.

Without preamble, he charged at the droid released from the other side of the room. Hand raised and glowing, he ducked instinctively under a slash of its arm, and gave a solid uppercut to what could be called its chin. The bot, knocked to the ground, died to a crushing blow to its chest which crumpled the hull and the power source.

From an outsider's perspective, it looked like Jaune had _trashed_ the bot. While that was true, it was partially born from having an almost instinctive understanding of the bot's reactions and subroutines. He didn't doubt that he was strong, but in comparison to Pyrrha, he might have to step up his game. That meant learning to adapt. Keeping that in mind for the next training session, he sat down on the bench, and gave the girl a silent look.

It seemed that she was slightly awed by his performance. Shaken from a reverie, she stepped and chose the option for an AK-130 as well. Idly, he watched her duck and dodge, as well as pepper the bot with aura shots from her palm. He used the time to really _look_ at her, like how his parents had taught him. She donned a yellow robe with one wide, loose fitting sleeve over a black tube top. She wore black pants, shoes and a red sash embroidered with a white endless knot on it. Lastly, her weapon of choice was a dagger attached to her bandage wrappings, turning it into a rope dart.

This told him two primary things, first of which being that she was probably Mistralian. This made sense, given her usages of kimonos, sashes, and flexible attacks to dismantle the combat droids. Her choice of clothing and weaponry formed the image of someone who was supposed to attend Haven Academy, but was sent to Beacon in light of the recent attacks. Secondly, was that she was definitely competent. She lacked the hesitance of a greenhorn, attacking viciously, and expending the minimal movement to dodge the attacks of the robots. Sureness and efficiency, displayed in the way she weaved her semblance efficiently with her attacks and the way she flicked her rope dart with unerring accuracy.

Despite this, Jaune reckoned he could beat her in a fight. While she was definitely a skilled fighter, her build was not one that could stand up to his assault. He would bullrush her, and would be strong enough take out her aura in two clean hits. Her weapon was too weak to afford her space to attack him, and while he had no way of assessing how fast she could run, Jaune was no slouch in that department either. The memory of the journey to Vale resounded in his mind- one of blurring landscapes and blinding fast strikes. His defense against the flock of Nevermores nearly killed him, but he distinctly remembered outrunning a Lenore's feather spear at one point.

They continued this silent, alternating training for around 30 minutes. After a brief lull in the action, she locked eyes with him. Nodding to herself, she spoke. "My name is Arslan Altan."

He allowed a small smile to appear on his face. "Jaune Arc. Nice to meet you."

Silence. They were staring at each other for five solid seconds when Jaune decided this was becoming _way_ too awkward. "Well, I'm going to change, then go to the cafeteria to eat. Wanna come with?"

She mirrored his smile. "Alright."

...

Arriving at the mess hall, he found that it was mostly empty, with the exception of a group of four sitting together at a table, and the staff manning the food. After grabbing a stack of pancakes at the counter, he walked towards the quartet sitting there, with Arslan in tow. "Do you guys mind if we sit here too?"

"Why not?"

"Sure!"

"..."

"Eh, go ahead."

Setting down his plate, he looked at his tablemates. A teenage boy with tan skin, dark blue eyes and messy light blue hair. A girl with lightly tanned skin, indigo hair brushed over to her left side, and olive eyes. A boy with green eyes and brown hair styled in cornrow dreadlocks tipped in gold clasps. A girl with light green hair swept to her right, green eyes and fair skin, as well as two black facial markings on her cheeks.

"Hi, I'm Jaune Arc."

In turn, they gave their names.

"Neptune Vasilias, at your service." The blue-haired one.

"I'm Nebula Violette, nice to meet you." Indigo hair, and olive eyes.

"Roy." Deadlocks in gold clasps.

"Reese Chloris, hi." Green hair and facial markings.

From his side, Arslan introduced herself as well. Pleasantries exchanged, Jaune turned to eating his breakfast. Exercise always left him hungry, despite it having been only thirty minutes total. Something to do with his aura consumption, and how his body metabolized food to increase aura production.

"Hey, you were the guy who got Pyrrha's groupies to scram, right?"

Jaune looked at the origin of the statement- Reese, looking at him with some level of curiosity. The light conversation at the table stopped, and they turned to look at him as well.

Reese continued still. "Yeah, it is you! Back in Sanctum, she's always had that problem with her fans. No matter how much she tried, she still wasn't able to shake them. Threats of physical violence didn't shake them, and neither did actual physical violence."

She leaned in closer. "So, how'd you do it?"

After a bite of his pancake, he replied with "Aura bullshit." The rest of the table looked distinctly unsatisfied with that answer, but they could understand his hesitancy. No one knew how the entrance exam would work, and a hunter had to keep secrets up his sleeve to have an edge over the competition. Jaune knew this, and forcing people to prepare for an unknown variable would help when he inevitably had to face them. They knew that too, and couldn't begrudge him for it.

Neptune spoke, filling the silence. "So, has anyone seen the latest Spruce Willis movie?" The table conversation resumed, with the same exuberance as before.

Jaune returned to eating, offering his own part to the discussion when needed or asked to. He wondered how many more moments like this he would have; respite from the world around them, an oasis of optimism against an ever-growing tide of darkness. The idle conversation, the slightly-better-than-average-food, the scent of maple syrup in the air...

It was an idyll, made special by how perfect and ephemeral it was. Jaune knew this was a memory he would feel nostalgia for. Their lives would be consumed soon enough by the tide of darkness, as was demanded by their profession of choice. Everyone knew how dangerous it was to be a huntsman- most did not live to see old age. Death rates were high, incredibly so, and injury rates were not much better.

Despite this grim fact, it was a testament to a cultural enshrinement of huntsmanship, as well as successful propaganda that allowed for hunting to remain a highly sought-after profession. People like Cadmus, the first hero, or Setanta, who drove back the hordes from Northern Vale, had their lives and legends turned into a rallying story for people to buy into and remain hopeful. Culture heroes they were, defining the narratives that in turn affected how people dreamed and lived, acting as moral landmarks for society to keep on functioning.

A marvel of social engineering, unknowingly brought about by the collective will of the populace. Weaponizing the dreams of mankind to ward off the darkness. How romantic, and yet at the same time so cold and unfeeling. It was necessary, to lift spirits and to convince another generation of dreamers to lay down their lives for some abstraction of a common good.

He ate another bite. How dreary.

Rationally, he knew that the act of forming new bonds was not a betrayal in anyway. He was capable of both mourning his old friends and making new ones. In spite of this knowledge, he could feel himself hesitate and feel a little bit nauseated every time someone cracked a joke in that old way _they_ did or banter like _they_ did. He shook his head. The only way to confront this forming psychosis was head-on.

Time to make some fucking _friends._ And so, he started, speaking just after the conversation trailed off. "So, why'd you guys decide to become hunters?"

"Well..."

And the gears of history turned on.

...

Jaune pulled out the pack they left in locker 636, which contained water and some rations. _Prolonged survival?_ Regardless, he emptied the given pack and put the supplies into his own backpack. And, just for good measure, he put the pack into his other backpack as well. _Just in case._

Looking up, he saw the white-haired girl and Pyrrha walk towards his direction. They seemed to be in eager conversation- well, maybe not Pyrrha. She looked like she wanted to be anywhere else but there.

"-ght to whose team you'd like to be on? I'm sure everyone must be eager to unite with such a strong, well-known individual such as yourself!"

"Hmm..." she replied, "I'm not quite sure. But I think I already have someone in mind." Turning away from her discussant, she caught sight of Jaune. Instantly, her eyes lit up.

"Jaune!" she exclaimed, jubilant at the thought that she would be able to talk to someone _normal._

"Hi, Pyrrha." he greeted mildly. "And hi to you, uh..."

"Weiss. Weiss Schnee." A strained smile.

Silence for two awkward seconds.

"Well, since I didn't get to introduce myself properly, I'm Jaune Arc. Nice to meet you, Weiss."

"Arc, as in Specialist Azure Arc!? The same one my sister works with!?" Weiss said, a tone of panic entering her voice. It took skill and connections to become a Specialist in the Atlesian Military's Special Operatives unit, undergoing rigorous training and background checks just to be an aspirant. _Perhaps_ , her mind whispered insidiously, _they simply share a last name._

"Yeah, she's my older sister." Any hope of _that_ was shattered. "No hard feelings, right?"

"Y-yeah." she replied shakily. If she had made a powerful political enemy _this_ early...!

"Cool." Jaune returned to fixing his pack. Dust cartridges, check. Lighter, check. Dust vials, check.

Pyrrha leaned forward to look at his backpack. "So..." she faltered, looking for a way to start a conversation. It was difficult for a teenager to not be awkward, even ignoring the small crush on Jaune that Pyrrha seemed to be forming. "Are you ready for the initiation?"

"Yeah, I think I'm pretty ready. Although, if it turns out to be something like a written test, I'll be quite angry."

He turned his head up to look at Pyrrha. "How about you? You seem to be pretty prepared, already strategizing for team matchups." A wry grin on his face.

A blush earned in return. He was getting back into his groove, losing the stilted manner of someone still reeling from tragedy. "Well, actually, the one I wanted to be on my team was-"

The crackle of a speaker cut through all student conversation. A smooth, cultured voice, charming and baritone filled the air. "All first-year students please report to Beacon Cliff for initiation. Again, all first-year students report to Beacon Cliff immediately."

"Time to go, guys." Weiss nodded, and Pyrrha, still red-faced, followed suit.

"Nice one, drowsyface!" he could hear Yang. Pointedly, he ignored her. Acknowledging that with a reaction would increase the propensity of it occurring in the future.

...

The view from the cliff was breathtaking. Clouds streaked the sky, silvered and ephemeral. The trees waved slightly in the breeze, and the wind blew cool air onto his face. There, students stood on silver tiles in front of a mug-holding headmaster.

"For years, you have trained to become warriors, and today, your abilities will be evaluated in the Emerald Forest. Now, I'm sure many of you have heard rumors about the assignment of "teams." Well, allow us to put an end to your confusion. Each of you will be given teammates... today."

Reactions from the crowd. Shocked faces and irritated expressions. Groaning and nervous laughter.

"These teammates will be with you for the rest of your time here at Beacon. So it is in your best interest to be paired with someone with whom you can work well. That being said, the first person you make eye contact with after landing will be your partner for the next four years."

More reactions, some violent and angry. Shock, from Ruby, and excitement from a girl in pink. Determination from the others.

"After you've partnered up, make your way to the northern end of the forest. You will meet opposition along the way. Do not hesitate to destroy everything in your path... or you will die.

This elicited fear. Ozpin was a legend for a reason, and the pressure that settled around their shoulders was not simply a trick of the wind.

"You will be monitored and graded through the duration of your initiation, but our instructors will not intervene. You will find an abandoned temple at the end of the path containing several relics. As long as you reach that temple and survive, you will pass. Any questions?"

Hesitant hands raise from the crowd.

"Good! Now, take your positions." A swift motion of his hand, and suddenly, they were all shot from their platforms at the same time.

When he was being flung into the air, Ozpin's smugness was the resounding image in his imagination.

In a moment of odd clarity, he found himself tasting the wind. It was crisp and clear, like that of the mountainside or perhaps a pine forest.

He shook his head. He needed a landing strategy _now._ His shield was too small to block the fall with. Using his sword to slide down a tree would probably dull it to the point of uselessness. The revolver was too slow to get any kind of lift with. The terrain was closing in _fast-_

" _Fuck it._ " he thought. Wrapping himself in a golden sheath of light, he braced his body for impact. Again, the warmth of courage filled his heart, and he could _feel his_ muscles becoming stronger, bone hardening to the strength of metal. He felt himself crash through a tree, then another, then another. Each was a hit to his aura, but with the monstrous heritage of the Arc's, he probably still had enough to run on full steam.

Finally, he slammed into the ground. A small crater, the diameter of a small boulder, and a dust cloud made from his landing. He picked himself up, shaking the dust out of his eyes. _Around 80% left._ That would be enough. It had to be.

A voice, from his left. "A-are you ok? That looked like a pretty harsh landing."

"Yeah," he replied, turning to face her. "Just some turbulence."

The speaker was female, with red hair and vivid green eyes. Pyrrha. Given their distance from each other at the cliff, either she had somehow maneuvered herself to his position, or something had interfered with her flight. It didn't matter, he supposed. There were worse people to be partnered with.

"Nice to meet you, partner." he proffered his hand to towards her, as a sign of contract.

"Uh, right. Yeah." she shook his hand way too firmly. Curiously, her face was red once more. _Either the signs of a crush, or physical exertion._ Physical exertion seemed the likelier option, given how she was so hesitant to talk to him earlier.

"I think we should get going, if we want to get to the temple quickly."

Aura filled his legs once more, filling them with strength. Ready to run.

Just then, two Beowolves entered the small clearing. Being dumb beasts, they did not feel the need to obey the narrative convention of allowing the hero to get ready before fighting. They charged, heedless of their surroundings, large bodies barreling straight at him. His aura flowed, imbuing his blade with sharpness and hatred for Grimm flesh. A quick practiced cut upwards with his sword tore the momentum out of the beast, knocking it upwards. Jaune had experienced surprise drills before, and knew how to efficiently acquit himself in front of an adversary. Another cut tore the torso to ribbons. The last tore its head off.

He turned to the other, only to see its left limb sheared off by Pyrrha's blade. She looked particularly vicious, hacking at it and pushing it back with each strike. Then, with a sense of finality, she impaled its head on her blade. Flicking the viscera off her blade, she responded. "Yes, I think that would be _grand_."

His grin was just as vicious. This would be fun.

"First to a hundred kills wins."

Awkward teenager interaction, Pyrrha would never understand. A semi-sheltered lifestyle, compounded by a life of prestige and fame ensured normal relationships forever gone from reach. Grimm murder, however, was something else entirely. This, she was trained her whole life for. Her semblance rose to her call, xiphos glowing with a metallic sheen. "You're on."

As if responding to some unseen signal, both darted in the same general direction towards the temple. Jaune grunted, body sheathed in that same courage-light. His sword flicked out, ready to kill. _There._ An Ursa, just fifty meters to his front. He kicked his muscles into overdrive, dashing around the trees. There. A small clearing before his target. Straight forward, now. His full barreling charge, coupled with that strange, Grimm-shearing light allowed him to literally tear the Ursa's head off its body, along with a solid chunk of head.

"One!" he shouted out.

He heard Pyrrha reply twenty meters or so to his left. "One!."

A gunshot. "Two!"

A grin threatened to split his face. He pushed on further into the woods.

...

He could hear Pyrrha close behind him. The score was 67-73, with Pyrrha taking the lead in kills. Looking up, he skidded to a halt. A change in scenery. In front of him was a large glade, around the size of half a football field. A ray of light shone from above, highlighting motes of dust floating lazily in the air. It drew his attention to the stone dais in the center. Intricate, but indistinguishable markings lined its circumference. On it, stood a large, musuclar Grimm almost twice his size. It was covered in black skin, with bone-like plates covering its body at certain places like armor, or perhaps moss. A reddish glow emanated from underneath its armor plates, and one eye on its disfigured mask-face.

A Beringel _._ Jaune recognized these from his studies back at the village. It was touched upon briefly, talked about as a strong, durable Grimm that required experience and skill to handle. In the horde, they came in droves, a vague mockery of humans with grisly, powerful jaws, and superhuman strength. This one seemed different from the ones in the _event._ It was glowing, which was new.

"Jaun-" Pyrrha said, cutting herself off as she caught sight of the large Grimm. "That's... a Beringel. I've never fought one before."

 _Assess._ While heavily resembling gorillas, Beringels were not native to the forests of Vale. They belonged primarily to the wastes of Vacuo, once inhabiting its lush jungles before the advent of heavy mercantilism on the end of Atlas and Vale. Which meant one thing- it was brought here, either by a hunter or a professor. Given its placement on the center of a stone dais, it was probably meant for students to find and fight.

Which meant that it would be -relatively- safe to fight.

"It was placed here, which means that we were meant to find it. Why not, right?"

Pyrrha looked at him, reprimand on the tip of her tongue. What stopped her was his completely serious expression. "I want to test my strength," he continued, "They placed that here, as a challenge. I'm not going to back down, no matter what."

He leaned in closer, and Pyrrha could smell the sweat off his chest. "Will you help me?"

Her eyes locked with his, seeking for falsehood, for any kind of trickery. She saw burning hate, and red-hot courage. Twin pools of blue sky, pure and true. Determination. Her brain was screaming at her to say no, that this was stupid and ridiculously reckless and likely to get them killed-

"Yes."

-and the Grimm turned to face them.

Jaune stepped forward, readying shield and sword. Calm and steady, he spoke. "Pyrrha, attack it from the side. If it switches targets, back off." Flicking the mental switch for his semblance, his body shone, radiant and bright. A quiet, tranquil stride ate up the steps between him and the Beringel. From his peripheral vision, he could see Pyrrha move quickly, gracefully darting around the edge of the thicket. All the while, the Grimm watched, red pinpricks of light glowing with intelligent hunger.

Courage, hope, and a strong sword arm. The beast came to a resolution, the gears in its brain turning from _Observe_ to _Kill._ In its eyes, Jaune was now prey. It roared, beating its chest, releasing a guttural, hateful noise. It charged with a swinging gait, arms swaying as it met Jaune in battle. They clashed, metal shield meeting Grimm muscle. His entire body could feel the impact, teeth ringing, but he stood his ground. It was powerful- immensely so, each part of its body working with piston-like strength. They clashed again, this time sword meeting bone-plated arm. Now, Pyrrha was upon it, fierce strikes shearing off tendon and gristle.

It turned to face Pyrrha, but Jaune, moving quickly, positioned himself to be a target underneath it. The Beringel lifted its arm to bring its fist down him, and he jerked quickly to the left to dodge. Taking the opportunity, Pyrrha jumped atop its fist as it struck the ground, attacking swiftly at its faceplate. Bringing its fist back up, she then dodged leftward, landing beside Jaune, who was already picking himself up. The large Grimm rose, seeming unhurt.

He rushed the Beringel again, this time ducking under its fist and swinging his sword to cut a large gash in its bone chest plate. Pyrrha circled around it, looking for openings in its guard.

This interplay continued for a few more minutes, with the duo wearing it down and forcing it to split its attention between them. Once more, Jaune and the Grimm struck each other head on, his shield blocking bone plated arm. His body, straining to provide himself with strength to withstand the assault. _Now._ With a heave and a surge of aura, he knocked the Beringel backwards, forcing it to stumble.

Blade raised, he moved, searching for weaknesses in its form. There. Between the pectoral plate and the stomach plate, a gash made by one of Pyrrha's earlier attacks. His sword plunged forward, slipping through the bone plates of the Grimm. At the same time, Pyrrha attacked, spear gouging out large swathes of flesh from its exposed back. The red light glowed ominously bright, and Jaune knew this meant nothing good.

"Pyrrha, back off now!"

He jumped backwards, holding up the shield to protect his body. Pyrrha did the same, choosing to take the opposite side of the glade. Red haze leaked from the gaps in its flesh, acrid and sulfurous. Some touched the grass, and he could see it wilt and decay almost immediately. Looking back to the Grimm, he noticed small, limb-like growths extend from the gaping wounds. _Shit._

Adaptive mutation, a trait seen in specific species of Grimm, such as the Hydra or the Humbaba, evolving new features after regenerating from damage taken. This was theorized to be in other species such as the Beringel, but never empirically proved. Now, there was proof. Unfortunately, that made it exponentially more dangerous. _We have to kill it now._

"It's adapting! We have to kill it now!" An ominous cadence, rushed and desperate.

His body screamed at him, complaining from the extreme strain of the fight. Aura at around 40%. He had to kill it, now. He ignored the body, feeling the wash of courage once more. Shield and sword raised, he charged. There. The same gap in the armor as earlier. _Exploit its weakness._ Pyrrha aimed to do the same, xiphos and shield in hand, running for its exposed back. He picked up speed, legs pumping heavily, and heart beating loudly in his ribcage.

The Beringel, with a triumphant roar, stretched out its arms in some mockery of a hug, bearing its chest. The red mist dissipated. What it revealed was chilling; the gash was completely covered in bone-marrow plate. _Fuck._

He was running straight into its arms, and there was no way for him to stop himself now without leaving himself open to the assault of the Beringel. Weighing his options quickly, he decided to continue with the attack. _Trust in Pyrrha_ , his mind seemed to say, and his body moved on its own. In a graceful, somehow practiced twist of the body, his stance lowered, closer to the floor. Then, with an explosive motion, he leaped. The sword, leading the way with the same metallic sheen of Pyrrha's, rose upwards to pierce through its cracked and scratched bone plate. In the same moment, she severed the beasts Achilles' tendons, forcing it to kneel down. With a jerk upwards, his sword ripped through the bloodied and burnt mask of the Grimm and the head it covered.

He could not keep the grin off his face. Pyrrha had helped him there, somehow, using her mysterious semblance. They did it. A Beringel, giant and mutated, felled by their hand. He looked at his partner, and saw the grin on her face as well.

The sound of rustling bushes to his back alerted him- more Grimm?

A girl. Assess. Light green hair swept to her right, green eyes and fair skin, as well as two black facial markings on her cheeks. Wait, that looks like someone- oh, it's Reese.

Another beside her. Assess. Wearing a kimono and bandages around her arm- that's Arslan.

They were looking at him with some level of shock- he could tell by the dropped jaws and wide eyes.

He looked down at the corpse of the giant Beringel, then at Pyrrha, looking at him expectantly, then back at the pair of girls. His grin threatened to split his face.

"Hey, Arslan and Reese. Mind helping us get to the temple?"

* * *

 **GRIMM REPORT:**

 **Boarbatusks are large, armored, wild boar-like creatures of Grimm. A** **quadruped originating from the wilds of Vacuo, they have many distinct features such as cloven-feet, a line of hair sprouting from its spine, a snub snout, and tusks.**

 **Boarbatusks tend to charge directly at their target, relying on its massive tusks to grapple with opponents. However, it also has displayed the ability to spin forward along its spine in cases where its tusks have been broken off.**

 **The Boarbatusk's upper body is heavily armored. It has demonstrated the ability to withstand stabbing and cutting attacks to its upper body without any apparent injury under a what little controlled testing it has had. These plates are some of the strongest seen in common, low-level Grimm, beaten only by Ursa Majors and Beringels.**

 **Despite the Boarbatusk's heavy armor around its body, its underside has little to no armor and is the Grimm's only apparent weak point. As a result, it is completely defenseless when on its back and is easily dispatched in this position.**

 **Mature Boarbatusks can grow to sizes exceeding that of small houses. Some, such as the Erymanthian Boar and the Calydonian Boar have kill counts in the hundreds, barreling through village walls with ease and leaving a path of destruction in their wake. See "Erymanthus" and "The Hunt of Calydon".**

* * *

 **AN: Divergence! Team matchups will most definitely not be the same, but I'll still keep canon partners. You can probably guess Jaune's team, but I'll keep the other teams secret.**


	4. Travail

**Chapter 4**

 **Travail**

 **Disclaimer: Rust.**

 **AN: Jaune is well and truly traumatized by the tragedy. It simply hasn't had time to sink in. Remember, the narrator is always unreliable, even when he seems like a cool guy.**

 **Also, Jaune was chosen in the show as leader for skill in leadership in tactics. I think a tactically sound leader would be more in character for this Jaune, as well as be a generally more entertaining protagonist.**

* * *

They had been trekking for a few hours, Grimm appearing intermittently only to be slaughtered with swift ruthlessness. The group of four moved efficiently, facing little resistance in the forest. A rustling in the bush was met with rapid shots from Reece's pistols. A Creep flew out, knocked on its back by the force of her gun fire. Without pausing her stride, Pyrrha speared it through the head with javelin, killing it instantly. In the sheer monotony, Jaune took the time to take stock of his likely future teammates. He wouldn't have put it beyond Ozpin to engineer flight scenarios to place them together. Already though, he expected himself to be chosen as leader- no one else actually wanted the role in their group of four.

Reese was flighty, unsure, indecisive. Unfit. Pyrrha was experienced, but incapable of forming complex tactics. Arslan would make a good candidate, but already she deferred to him in matters regarding leadership. Without intending to, he had taken command of their little group. Given the most probable scenario of him being team leader, he began to plan. What were the tools he had at his disposal?

Red-haired Pyrrha, patient and polite, an image sharply contrasted by the Grimm ichor staining her armor. She was the most versatile of all of them, having a rifle-javelin-sword as well as the strength and dexterity to wield it. It seemed she was skilled with all of her weapon's forms, seamlessly switching between them in the heat of battle. She was strong, having the power to rip large gashes into Boarbatusk armor and Ursa plate.

Graceful in battle, and having incredible battle-sense, he reckoned that she could dance through a minefield unhurt. To top that package off, there was her semblance, which made her weapons glow with a metallic sheen. Likely a form of ranged kinesis, with how she redirected his charge at the Beringel earlier.

She would be the trump card for his plans, an ace that he could use to compliment the skills of others. She played off the fighting styles of all three of them very well, acting as the subtle knife to Jaune's charge, the defensive wall to Arslan's darting dagger, and the overwhelming force to Reece's covering fire.

Her only flaw would be her inability to command- skilled she was, but tactically sound she was not. Used to one-on-one duels and lacking the natural intuition required for quick decisions, she left the major plan making to Jaune. Fine by him, he supposed.

Arslan was distinctly different to Pyrrha in that while they both were physically impressive, Arslan's weaponry did not lend itself to the duties of a tank or a damage-dealer. She had three main options in battle- her dagger which could be turned into a rope dart, her martial arts, and her semblance which allowed her to shoot fire balls from her palms.

The rope dart was used mainly in disrupting the attack patterns of opponents, severing vital tendons or causing large wounds at unexpected times, catching many Grimm unawares. Her martial arts revolved around using brutal blows to disable quickly, immense strength battering an enemy's weak points until they were unable to stand. Her semblance, while having potential to act as long-range fire, was mainly used in the same capacity as her dagger, being fired in between strikes, or to trip up prey that sought to close in on their location.

In this, Jaune found her mostly useful as a disruptor. Setting up kills and complex assaults would require her prowess in order to create openings for Pyrrha or him to charge in. She had the toughness to withstand a direct assault, and as such Jaune could redirect tactical resources to keeping Reece or a mission target safe.

In the event Pyrrha was disabled, she could act as a damage dealer as well, but he would probably need to call in fire support from Reece to allow her safe exit. More importantly, in the event he were unable to act as leader, Arslan had the tactical smarts and decision-making ability to assume his role temporarily- she contributed heavily to the discussion on tactics, and would likely have been chosen as leader in a different team.

In Reese, he found a capable ranged support, competent in shooting accuracy and damage, as well as being incredibly skilled in maneuvering and repositioning herself within the battlefield. Her weapon was a bladed hoverboard capable of transforming into twin pistols, but she lacked physical power and a melee weapon. While she was skilled in what he saw of her usage of martial arts, she didn't have the strength behind her blows to truly finish off an enemy.

Her melee offensive capacity was severely hindered by her need to dodge all attacks for fear of being disabled by a single good hit. Worse still, she was also easily deceived by the fake body of a Geist, despite the fact that she had seen this occur many times before, which may indicate a lack of foresight, situational awareness or just plain gullibility.

Thus, he was forced to put her as covering fire and ranged support. Despite her many shortcomings, she was excellent at doing her job, accurately hitting Grimm in weak spots and executing plans with great efficiency. Contrasting her jovial demeanor, she was professional in battle, assessing the most rational points of attack and forcing enemies to make mistakes.

Her semblance was a mystery to him- she probably did not see the need to use it currently. Jaune could understand- after all, it was not her who set his first real bed on fire.

That left himself- he admitted that his semblance and his build made him well suited to being the brute force of the team. His aura reserves were exceptionally large, even among the Arc family, likely the combination of good genes and a particularly tenacious spirit. His body was built strongly, with powerful muscles and broad shoulders, bowling aside lesser Grimm with confidence. His weapons- a longsword, a shield, and a revolver- meant for heavy and prolonged battles, dealing crippling strikes with each attack.

He was not without his own flaws, however- he lacked the battle-intuition and deftness of feet that allowed Pyrrha to duck and swerve around Grimm with ease, body too heavy or too large to ever reach that level of elegance. The combination of his role as a leader and a tank were in direct conflict, requiring him to somehow give commands in the middle of gunfire and battle. He was stubborn, and in the occasion he was wrong, he needed to butt heads in order to snap him out of a bad course of action.

Shaking himself from his brief reverie, he returned to the light conversation currently ongoing.

"-nk that he's actually a Grimm in disguise. Don't you remember that overwhelming pressure he released last night?" Reece.

"Actually, I'm more inclined to believe that he's secretly a robot. I don't think he feels pain- and a piston-charged swing of his arms would certainly explain how he dealt with that AK-130..." Arslan.

"That would make sense, but he was eating just fine earlier in the cafeteria..."

"If they made the effort to make a robot that could produce aura, I think they would account for a digestive system as well."

"I dunno, it seems kinda unlikely. Too much emotion, too much sass."

"Fair enough, but I think robots could simulate that too... I thought the AI in the CCT were pretty good at displaying emotion."

"Maybe he's just a normal guy?" said Pyrrha, nervously looking over to Jaune. He quirked an eyebrow in response.

"Nah, that's too boring. What about a time-traveler? That would explain how he's so unfazed by literally everything that happens here-" Reece interrupts herself, just now noticing Jaune, who was paying attention to the conversation. "Oh, that's awkward."

"..." Jaune said, silence somehow more significant than normal silence.

"Well, if you heard all of that, then what are you? No normal Beacon applicant takes a hit from a Beringel like that, outpaces Pyrrha, the Mistral national champion, in kills like _that,_ and releases such pressure, like, like- _blargh._ Just- what makes you different, you know?"

"I eat a healthy breakfast everyday, and keep a regular schedule."

"You seem like an awfully unflawed person." Arslan remarked, noting the Mary Sue-esque tendencies in Jaune that would totally not fly in respectable writing.

"I'm actually a teeming wreck, kept together only by the skin of my teeth."

"Seems like it."

Glib and deflecting, just how he liked it. Seemed about right. Glib and deflecting, just how he liked it. Glib and deflecting, just how he liked it. Glib and deflecting, just how he liked it-

Fuck, what was that? His mind stopped working for a second, fixating on a single line of thought.

Fixating on a single line of thought.

His mind was drawing away from the present, refusing to cooperate with his demands. Hot flashes hit him like a truck, that same inferno-blood sensation that demanded full attention and wished for war and pain.

h

The factory, burning down.

e

The walls, rubble and dust.

l

His parents, on the ground.

p

He found himself unable to think clearly, images of fire and darkness taking command of his mind.

While Jaune would never say he was insane _,_ he would admit to himself certain _idiosyncrasies_ that do come off as a little eccentric. All experienced hunters eventually undergo PTSD, with the nature of their work. Villages destroyed, missions failed, teammates dead. This was normal. This was normal.

A calm, detached partition of his mind realized that he was spiraling downwards- thoughts scattering and emotions peaking. His semblance was subconsciously reacting to his mental state, building up pressure from his veins and muscles. No one went through a total destruction of status quo without some trauma- his just hadn't caught up yet. It was all piecing together.

The way how his thoughts shifted so swiftly from grim to joking, or how he stopped using his scroll contacts so he wouldn't see _their names,_ or how his semblance was always a little bit on, just to keep that endless tap of courage flowing so he wouldn't forget how to **_breath_**. Breath- breath- fuck. He could feel it sinking in- sinking in- sinking down. Himself, sinking down.

 _"_ _I'm going insane."_

 _fuck-_

Jaune stumbled, catching himself on the trunk of a tree. His (not yet) teammates looked at him curiously- turning swiftly to worry when they caught sight of his pale face. _What was that?_ His legs weren't responding, rooted, stock-still, statue-like- his mouth felt curiously dry."Pyrrha-" Gasping for air. "Can you-" Breathe. "Help me a little-" Breathe. "Bit, here."

"Are you ok?" she said as she stepped around the tree trunk he leaned on. Moving swiftly, she slung his arm over her shoulder. She carried their weight almost like a feather- like- like-

His semblance turned on to full, like the flicking of a light switch half-pressed. His body glowed dimly, and his breaths began to stabilize. They had stopped moving now, efforts fully focused on him. "Are you ok?" she repeated, eyes brimming with concern. He considered lying to them, about his past and his memories. He discarded that swiftly- lying lead to tension, which lead to hate, which lead to- Breathe. But there was no time to explain it now. Not in a dangerous Grimm-infested forest. Later, when it was safe.

He closed his eyes, singling out only the flow of his aura, allowing the soothing sensation to spread out from his body. There. He could feel his body working now. His psychosis, locked up and resolvable _later._

 _"_ I think it's gone now. I'll explain later when we get out of the forest, I promise."

Their eyes- vivid green, olive green, forest green, - _wow, they all had green eyes-_ lingered on him for a second more, then continued on. He jogged slightly, catching up to them with little exertion. This would be fine. He would force it to be so.

He hoped he could.

...

Conversation resumed shortly after, slightly stilted and awkward, but nonetheless there. They were talking about their favorite foods (Jaune and Reece preferred Atlesian cuisine, while Arslan and Pyrrha favored Mistralian) when the sound of four, distinct screams alerted their group. Three of which he recognized, Weiss, Ruby, and Neptune. The one he didn't recognize was male, with an accent vaguely Vacuoan. "They sound like they're in trouble." Arslan remarked.

"Let's go help them, then!" Reece replied, getting her hoverboard ready.

They looked at him, searching for a course of action. He considered the benefits of simply not responding- an increased chance of passing, less Grimm to attack them- but decided against it. Pragmatically, having a group of eight was simply more useful, as well as increasing the breadth of strategic options tenfold. Ozpin was a highly moral person- abandoning people in need would reflect bad on his chances of passing. Providing assistance would grant him goodwill in future hunters and political movers.

Most importantly, Ruby was his friend, and Neptune and Weiss were acquaintances. Jaune had resolved to never leave a friend behind- he wasn't going to go back on that now.

It would be difficult, however. They would first have to locate them, then rescue them from whatever caused them to scream. Weiss seemed to be like a person who kept her composure under pressure, and has likely dealt with dangerous situations in the past. A scream from her meant that the magnitude of the situation was to some extent, dangerous.

But he had tools in the form of other people- a working disengage in the form of Arslan, recon and intel in Reece, and a trump card in Pyrrha.

"Yeah, let's help them. Reece, scout ahead for Grimm. Don't engage until we arrive."

Reece nodded once, and sped off on her hoverboard. He turned to the other two.

"Let's travel fast, but make sure to kill any Grimm on the way."

They followed suit, moving adeptly. All of them had experience traversing forest terrain, with the exception of Arslan. She was agile, however, and could keep up with them with little difficulty.

He considered the possibilities- the likelihood of a Grimm horde was low, given that they usually numbered in the thousands, and he would have seen them by now. An attack by a fellow student team perhaps, but still unlikely, taking into consideration the instructions Ozpin gave. He doubted Ozpin would accept a team that attacked those in need. Perhaps a natural disaster? But the noise from an earthquake or a tornado would be loud enough to be heard from where they were currently.

The landscape was beginning to worsen, with the canopy getting thicker and the trees gaining a slightly sinister image. Shadows grew longer, the noises of wildlife disappeared, and rock formations grew erratic and jagged.

After a few minutes of running, Reece returned, a troubled look on her face.

"Did you see anyone?" asked Jaune.

"I wasn't able to go very far on the hoverboard- the treeline grew too thick, and going above the canopy didn't help because the trees were too close together to see through."

"Alright, let's keep going in that general direction. We'll find them soon enough."

...

Weiss was not having a great day. First, she got Ruby as a partner. While she wasn't particularly upset over the fact that it was Ruby- she was competent in battle, and eager to please. However, she had planned for Pyrrha, and now had to rethink battle strategy without having an instant-win card. Weiss was born with a silver spoon in her mouth, but she was no stranger to hard work nor hardship. It simply meant that dealing with school politics would be a little bit harder.

Secondly, after landing and meeting with Ruby, they had encountered two particularly annoying boys in the forest. The blue-haired one- _Neptune_ \- kept trying to flirt with her with that pretentious 'intellectual' accent of his, and the other - _Sun_ \- was a faunus. She - _was definitely not racist!-_ and could tolerate their kind enough when they were well-behaved, like that cat faunus, but this one exhibited all the stereotypes- bullheaded, brash, and overconfident. They were confrontational, and basked in showing off when fighting against Grimm. They needed to be efficient- their job was to kill Grimm, not to impress girls!

Third and most egregious of all was the _fucking Taijitu nest_. The four of them stumbled into a particularly thick copse of forest, not realizing that it was infested with around fifty King Taijitus. Sinuous and slithering, the Grimm pack came for them, maws bared wide in ravenous pursuit. They ran back the way they came, hoping to lose them, but the Grimm were slowly gaining on them, bodies maneuvering expertly around the terrain. These Grimm were built for traversing the forest swiftly, able to cover plenty of ground in a short amount of time.

She reckoned she might have been able to take on a single Taijitu, but fifty was out of the question, even for the most experienced of teams at Beacon. An experienced team they were not, so they decided to run.

By her guess, they had been running for five minutes, when the sound of footsteps alerted her to the presence of other people.

"Hey, I hear footsteps." It appears that Sun had heard it too, looking around for the origin of the sound.

"Guys, I think it would be a REALLY good idea if we asked them for help!" Ruby said, voice half-frantic and half-hopeful.

Weiss entertained the thought of not asking for help for a brief moment, before quickly discarding it. She was not so prideful to jettison any chance of survival out of some misplaced sense of arrogance. "If there's anyone nearby, we would greatly appreciate assistance!" she shouted, hoping that they would be able to hear.

Jaune's voice resounded in the distance. "We're on our way!" The sound of footsteps drew nearer.

"Hi Jaune! We're being chased by-" Ruby shouted, cut off by their arrival.

He was accompanied by three girls; Pyrrha and two others. One blonde, dark-skinned and fierce-looking. The other green-haired, with facial markings.

His face turned grim, overcast by a large shadow. "A Taijitu nest." Weiss turned around slowly, to see what he was looking at. A hissing, rattling sound filled the air, both ominous and disconcerting. Red eyes peered curiously out of the copse of trees, and serpentine bodies both black and white coiled sinuously around the tree trunks.

"Get ready to fight," the blond boy said, unsheathing sword and shield. "We're not getting out of here until they die."

Eight students against a hundred serpents. The dawning realization that the only option now was to fight. Even Sun, ever-joking, felt it, face stained somber and serious. Weiss didn't feel too optimistic about it- they would be uncoordinated, fight messily, and die. It was their first time fighting together, and they would probably get in each others' way.

Jaune's voice cut through her thoughts, voice lucidly clarion. "Stick together. Focus on getting good, clean hits. Listen closely, and trust what I say." He didn't plan on micromanaging every person, but if one were in imminent danger, or they as a group needed to retreat, he needed their absolute trust in what he would say.

No one responded, readying their weapons and tensing their muscles. Their assent went unsaid, but he could see it in the way their stances shifted, bunching together. The way their eyes looked to him in the silence afterwards.

"They're coming."

The first Grimm came out blinding fast, teeth gleaming like polished bone. It was met with a hail of bullets from Reece and Pyrrha, then swiftly pinned to a tree with Arslan's rope dart. Neptune, recognizing an opportunity, lunged forward with his gun swiftly shifting to a guandao. A second head burst out of the forest, then a third and a fourth. Ruby, disappearing in a flurry of rose petals, appeared beside Neptune, stance low to block the assault of a Taijitu.

Weiss grimaced. _Time to fight._

...

Ruby grinned. _Time to fight!._

When she accepted Ozpin's offer, she knew instinctively that she would be out of place, given her age and inexperience. But she hadn't expected it to turn out so well and so... weird. She made new friends in the form of Blake, Sun, Neptune, and maybe even Weiss. Blake, with her meaningful silences and appraising stares. Sun, light and joking- and constantly getting on Weiss' nerves. Neptune, suave and polite- a bit pretentious, but no one was perfect. Weiss, prickly and judgmental, but she hadn't hesitated to save Ruby from a Nevermore during their short stint together before meeting up with the two boys. Jaune, vaguely mysterious and cool, but kinda dorky and a little bit _dreamy-_ scratch that last part.

Despite these newfound friends, it was all so awkward. It felt as if no one treated her seriously, or she was always saying the wrong things. She found herself putting her foot in her mouth more often than not, and annoying Weiss, her new partner. Social interaction was a minefield, and she didn't have the patience or skill to navigate it without losing a few legs.

Killing Grimm was something else entirely. In battle, her blood _sung_ , an odd sense of completeness so overpowering it stung, and seared her bones from the inside out - _in a good way._ There was no ambiguity about combat that clogged up her sentences and made her want to hide in her bedroom, and scream into her pillow. Killing was simple- you run fast enough to not get hit, and cut them sharp enough to kill them.

She jumped, allowing the lunge of the Taijitu to pass under her. Jumping over it with a semblance-powered leap, she swung her scythe in a curving arc into the base of its skill. Deftly spinning herself around the handle of her scythe, she used her body's weight to leverage the barrel to face the main portion of the head. Pulling the trigger several times, the bullets entered from the back of the Taijitu's skull and exited out the front.

Before she was able to really confirm its death, Jaune's voice rang out clearly. "Ruby, dodge to the left."

Her body moved faster than she could think, throwing herself to the left like he commanded. Just in time to watch the other half of the Taijitu crash into the spot where she would have been standing. Without preamble, she moved into action, dashing straight for the other exposed half. A clean cut, shattering the bone plating on its head, and splitting it near in half.

 _Another._ This time, two Beowolves, charging at her. An open-mouthed snarl cracked their masks, teeth the color of polished bone and eyes a claret red. Pushing strength into her muscles, she swung her scythe in a sweeping arc, knocking both Grimm back a few meters. Her semblance clicked, half subconsciously, and she was in front of one of the two Beowolves, weapon in mid-swing. Using the momentum of her dash, she slammed her scythe down to end its life.

The other was less wounded than she thought, getting a good hit on her from behind. Her aura took the brunt of the blow, but her body was sent flying into the tree. Gritting her teeth, she readied her scythe once more. Her semblance once more, lightening her body and turning her into an afterimage of red. She slammed the head of the scythe into the Grimm's chest, then before it could react, flicking the gun barrel open and primed. With a little bit of vindictiveness, she fired.

 _Another._ An Ursa Major, in combat with Weiss. The white-haired girl dodged its heavy strikes gracefully, using her glyphs to dart around the battlefield. Her rapier flashed, ice-white streaks of dust like comet trails. A jump, and a lunge towards its head. With the lumbering steadiness of a colossus, it swiped her away, sending her to the ground with little effort.

A subconscious trigger fired in her mind, and the world around her blurred. A trail of rose petals left in her wake, and a scythe moving into position. She appeared to the side of the Ursa's face, blinding speed on her side. She crashed into it like a red meteor, scythe carving sparks into the side of its bone-armor. Her body was of a slight build, however, and was only able to stun it momentarily.

Weiss, taking the opportunity with grace, formed a thin sheet of ice on the ground to slip up the large Grimm. As it attempted to regain control over the battle, it received another harsh strike from Ruby's scythe, attempting to sever its head from its neck. The Grimm, destabilized, collapsed on the ice floor. Weiss didn't hesitate, plunging her blade into its eye sockets, and discharging an entire vial of fire dust into its mask.

Ruby left then, understanding her duty was completed and noticing a wounded Creep trying to escape. She appeared in front of it, and executed it with a scything cut.

Giving herself a moment to rest, she looked around her. Jaune, firing his revolver into the maw of an Alpha Beowolf with staccato fire, until it stopped struggling. Then, pulling up its already dissolving corpse, he flung it at a nearby Taijitu in combat with Sun. With the large serpentine Grimm distracted, the monkey faunus fired his shotgun-nunchaku-staff at the beast, nearly tearing off its head with a well-placed shot. To the side, Pyrrha ducking under a fireball shot by Arslan, then rolling forward to impale a heavily wounded Beringel in the chest.

Jaune, Pyrrha, Arslan, and Sun were working in a large group, acting as a large hand, batting down large groups of Grimm. After the initial assault, they beat the onslaught of Grimm back with ruthless efficiency, forcing Taijitus to path into each other and leave both tangled. All four were heavy physical fighters, capable of taking hits and dealing incredible damage. They charged into particularly dense clusters of Grimm, forcing them to scatter and killing the ones that stayed. Ruby and the others picked the stragglers off. The Ursa Major must have slipped their view, then.

Normally, they would have cleared out the Taijitu nest already, but the fight did not exist in a vacuum, and several Grimm, hearing the sound of battle, closed in on their location. Now, they were fighting while moving, heading towards the general direction of the temple. It was not a good idea to remain long in a Taijitu nest- horror stories of the wounded King Taijitus merging and forming an Orochi abounded in dark taverns and online forums.

Her semblance activated again, making her feel light and buzzy. A single step, and she found herself moving in to kill a heavily wounded Taijitu. Someone had ditched the Grimm in the middle of battle, probably to save someone who was in a sticky situation. Judging by the three puncture marks, it was most likely Neptune. A swing of her scythe sheared its head off.

 _Again_. A swirl of rose petals, and a course of action.

"We're moving forward again!" Jaune shouted. She leaped to a nearby tree branch, scanning for teammates potentially left behind. Peering around rapidly, she searched for a glimpse of color amongst the sea of grimm blood. _There._ Golden light, and leather armor. _Jaune._ Waiting a few seconds longer, she disappeared in a burst of speed.

 _Better not get left behind._

...

Jaune grimaced. More Grimm, this time mostly Beowolves and Ursas. Individually, they were easy to deal with- most of them were skilled enough to kill one in a few seconds. The trait that made Grimm so dangerous, was a dogged tenacity, and an infinite pool of troops. They were not like normal armies, that had human motivations, and limited troops, and stomachs to feed. Normal armies could be outsmarted, subverted, or reasoned with. Grimm embodied the concept of "total war."

Total war is the concept that includes any and all resources and infrastructure as legitimate military targets, mobilizes all of society to fight the war, and gives priority to warfare over any other need. A dictator could claim to espouse "total war," forcing the young and the sick to pick up a weapon, but even then, they required uniforms, food, and a reason. Their bodies would shut down if pushed too far, and rebellion was always a lingering thought in the back of their minds.

Grimm were different. They lived only to hunt down humans and faunus, ignoring all concepts of morality, ethics, or reason. They observed no discernible hierarchy beyond that of the animals they cruelly mimic. They defied physics and logic- they do not have working circulatory systems to supply energy and nutrients, nor nervous systems to create decisions and respond to stimuli. They existed in spite of the fact that they should not.

A sufficiently experienced hunter could take down thousands of Grimm, even millions, if they were given the time. But weapons wore down. Stomachs grew hungry. Muscles tired. Minds broke. And another corpse would be found, lost in a tide of black and bone-white. Neither humanity nor faunuskind were at the top of the food chain on Remnant. That right belonged to the Grimm.

Even then, that ignored the large Grimm, the heavy hitters. The Myrkvior, a Grimm that took the appearance of a forest which bent the boundaries of space to bring you to its gaping mouth at the center. The Aethon, whose wingspan blotted the sun, and sucked the life out of those who stood in its wake. Worse still, ancient records mention Grimm the size of continents, footsteps changing the geography of the land they walk on. More esoteric effects- Grimm that stole memories, amplified feelings of pain, and took control of human bodies. Grimm that glowed with the light the soul. Grimm that eerily looked like missing hunters.

Jaune considered himself lucky that he wasn't tasked with defeating anything of that gravity, but found himself annoyed at having to walk through a Grimm-infested forest. Dealing with the Taijitu nest was easy enough- Taijitu were mainly territorial, and they managed to exit their area of the forest before the rest of the nest could come bearing down on their heads. Even the Grimm attracted were easy enough to deal with- it was simple to ram into them as a group of four and break straight through their armor with overwhelming force. The problem was they _just kept on going._

They were moving forward, albeit slowly, but the horde never seemed to thin. Wave upon wave of Grimm leapt from the deep treeline, and he barely had time to think. Were this a video game, perhaps he would have rejoiced at the bounty of EXP, but such was not to be. It was physically strenuous in a way that felt monotonous, and in their group of eight they had enough fire power to continue moving without fear. The Beringel was tough, but combat scaled multiplicatively with the ability to formulate and execute tactics- a group of eight with diverse weapon sets and skills had a lot more options than him and Pyrrha.

Weiss could use her glyphs to manipulate the environment, Reece could scout out avenues of retreat, Arslan could disable and cripple large Grimm, the list went on. _Utility_ was the name of the game here, not pure firepower. And even in that regard, they were not wanting.

 _There._ A Boarbatusk, charging at him. Charge arm with aura. Bring up shield. Redirect force to side. Pull out revolver. Fire twice into underbelly.

 _Another._ A Beowolf, leaping from a tree branch. Roll to the side. Bring up sword. Horizontal slash across the chest. Push forward with shield. Impale center of mass. Pull out. Sever head.

 _Another._

 _Another._

 _Another._

He wondered if this would ever end, this unceasing repetition of motion. He beat on senselessly against the waves of Grimm, sword driving the waves of darkness to seek repose from the night. To what depths of madness he would sink, to look upon the one hundred and eight vigintillion Grimm masks, bone white and spiraling into infinity! The glinting blade, the charging shield! All will be laid low by the aeolus of time, sand grains wearing away until the soul itself is reduced to-

"Hey, I think I see the temple!" Reece shouted, voice descending upon him like the chorus of a thousand non-Euclidean angels, manifold upon their hoary heavens. Jaune peered curiously, eyes squinting to get a better view.

The "temple" consisted of the broken ruins of a rotunda, Stonehenge-esque in its broken bricks and mossy exterior. The floor of the structure bore a radial design, geometric shapes expanding outwards, byzantine and intricate. On it, stood a single pedestal with an array of cards.

They moved closer warily, realizing that the onslaught of Grimm had stopped, and there was time for them to rest. They fanned out, a collective subconscious tactic to maximize their response time and efficiency in the event of an attack. Jaune was angry, and vaguely indignant. _They made us go through that for playing cards!?_

As they approached, Jaune noticed that the cards were not playing cards as he had assumed, but rather blank-faced white cards.

"Hey, what's the deal with these cards? They're all blank!" said Sun, stating the obvious.

"I think we're supposed to get one each." answered Arslan, taking one and putting it into her pocket.

"Hey, what if they're booby-trapped or something? This might be a trap!" chimed in Reece, a smile on her face. Easy for her to smile, Jaune thought bitterly, she had recon duty. Then again, he was the one who assigned her to recon, so that was probably his fault.

"Well," Neptune muttered, inspecting a card close to his eye, "All the Headmaster said we had to do was to reach the temple and survive. We've completed that objective, so what now?"

Jaune picked up the card, and fiddled with it. Turning it over for any writing or symbol, he found only white space. _Think._ What did Ozpin say?

 _Do not hesitate to destroy anything in your way._

That felt illogical. Nothing in his statement alluded to the cards themselves, or having to destroy them. He flipped it over in his hands, gears turning in his head. Ozpin was the kind of person to weave deeply intricate plans to fuck with him, so why not?

Perhaps these blank cards we meant to be proof of competence- the ability to reach the temple, and by destroying it he ruined his chances of graduation? No. There were instructors observing them, so they knew that he had achieved the objective. Moreover, why would it be a blank card? It lacked symbolic meaning.

Or did it? What did Ozpin say in his introductory speech? Of all the times to not listen...

"-une? Jaune?" Ruby was in front of him, eyes looking up at him. His team had a vaguely worried look written on their faces.

"Sorry, sorry, I spaced out there." he said, hands raising up in a supplicatory fashion. "Just thinking about the cards."

"Yeah, we were actually going to ask you about the cards." Reece, an inscrutable look on her face.

He closed his eyes. What points of information did he have to assess the next point of action?

"Ruby." He turned, eyes burning with dark-blue intensity. She started suddenly, face turning a dark red blush.

"Um, uh, y-yes sir! I mean Jaune, I mean, yeah."

"What part of Ozpin's introductory speech stood out to you the most?"

"Uh... The part when he was talking about wasted energy and stuff? Something about taking the first step?"

Weiss chimed in, seeming to also be in deep thought. "He mentioned honing our skills and knowledge, how we had to start from a "blank state.""

Blank state. Tabula rasa, "an absence of preconceived ideas or predetermined goals; a clean base." It was up to us to fill in a blank state with our skills and dreams, and discover new things about ourselves. His semblance rose, harkening to the call of his subconscious mind. What could be more apt to fill a blank card, than with the light of our soul?

His aura coalesced around it, a faint gold sheen around his body. He felt it being consumed hungrily by the card, more and more aura being drawn out from his pool of energy. At this point he was basically glowing, a bright corona of luminescence pulsating with a languid glory.

Lines of gold began etching themselves into the card, the curving arc of twin crescent moons. He heard it suddenly, like tuning in to a radio channel in the middle of song. The drum beat of war, furious and lurid, drawing him in and burning him from the inside out. That too, was being sucked into the card. The crescent moons found themselves encircled by a sanguine red, lucid hateful flames burning upwards.

Jeanne d'Arc, after all, died burnt at the stake.

...

They had spent around an hour waiting at the temple after arriving, using their auras to fill the blanks given to them. He used the time to regain his lost aura, and occasionally chime in to the conversation when needed.

It seemed that Grimm deliberately avoided the clearing they were in, given that not a single one had wandered in despite the dense numbers in the forest. The concept of anti-Grimm wards had been investigated and researched before, with limited success. They did exist, but failed to ward off the largest of Grimm, and costed wasteful amounts of dust and aura to keep running. It involved the usage of several fields of aura manipulation, complex machinery, and intricate dust-weave patterns to produce- it was expensive, inefficient, and didn't always work. Thus, it was never pushed into mainstream defense systems.

However, there were ways to work around the barrier of inefficiency- rumors of Mistralian sages warding temples and villages against Grimm with the use of powerful aura casting. They were few and far in between, with the amount of recorded sages in Vale countable on one hand. Perhaps there were more ways to increase the effectiveness of the technology, but the scientists and resources they had were limited. A state had to prioritize a certain gain over a speculative gain that while possibly more beneficial, is still unlikely.

He found it curious that they were the first group to reach the temple. Surely there were others just as competent as he or Pyrrha? Beacon was known for producing legends, but that was in part for drawing from a pool of the best of the best. He acknowledged his own strength, but the thought that he was the _best?_ It made him shiver a little bit. The pull of self-glorification was tempting, but he resisted it. _Overconfidence was just as deadly as a knife to the back._

A loud noise brought his attention back to the real world. He turned to his right, expecting to see the everpresent specter of Grimm. Instead, he was treated to the sight of Ruby falling off of Reece's hoverboard. Her face, a rictus of panic. Reece, clutching her gut in laughter. He laughed too. It was funny, and he had not laughed in quite some time.

"Hey, stop laughing! It's not funny- that really hurt!" Ruby said, indignant but without any real heat.

"I believe you should be worried about your pride more than anything." Jaune answered, making his way over to the main group of people.

Ruby, Reece, and Pyrrha were talking about weapons, something about comparing the durability of mechashift weapons to regular ones. Arslan was re-wrapping her bandages around her arms, but it looked like Weiss had struck up a conversation about the political situation of Vacuo. Sun and Neptune were talking about the latest Spruce Willis movie; they reckoned it was better than the previous one, but still generally bad.

"Oh, Jaune. We were having a conversation about viability of mechashift weapons regarding their utility and durability in battle." Pyrrha, shifting her gaze from Ruby to him.

"That sounds pretty cool; do you guys mind if I listen in?" he said, already sitting down on a fallen column beside them. Of course they would let him join the conversation- the question was meant to act as a segue for the dialectic to continue, as well as fill in the empty space. He knew some tricks to reduce awkwardness: this Jaune was not so inept in social situations.

"Actually, I think this topic would benefit much from your input; you probably have the most experience with "regular" weapons." That was true. Ruby used a scythe-sniper, Reece's hoverboards morphed into twin pistols, and Pyrrha had a javelin-xiphos-rifle. In comparison, he used a sword, a shield, and a revolver.

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense. So, what lead to Ruby falling off Reece's hoverboard?" He was genuinely curious.

This time, it was Reece who responded. "She wanted to try out the control system for the hoverboard and failed spectacularly. It wasn't a bad first try, until she fell off."

By this time Ruby had already picked herself up from the ground. In an attempt to be inconspicuous, she asked. "How much of that did you see?"

"Enough." he replied, a grin on his face.

"Auuuuuu..." she let out a low keening wail, like that of a whale deeply embarrassed.

After indulging in that glorious noise for a moment, he decided to get back to the topic. There was much to learn, and from what he knew of Ruby's skill with weaponsmithing from the first night, much he didn't know.

"So, let's start this discussion back up. From what I know, a mechashift weapon requires repairs more often, due to the many interlocking modules and thinness of metals used in the forging process."

Ruby perked up instantly, a strange gleam entering her eyes. "Well..."

A few (around ten) minutes of intense discussion later, Jaune found himself dizzied by the speed and depth at which Ruby talked. She was _really_ into weapons, and was able to rebut most of his points on why regular weapons were superior- the durability difference was minor due to recent advances in dust forging, aura syncing happened faster with normal weapons, true, but the effects on mechashift weapons was stronger, mechashift weapons were swiftly becoming cheaper and more widely produced due to the pursuits of Atlas.

Despite losing the debate, he wasn't too sore about it. He gained valuable information on mechashift weapons (always aim for the interlocking joints, utility scaled poorly due to shift times, aura reinforcement should be pooled on the handle to prevent slipping) and even the industries revolving their creation (i.e. Atlas' near monopoly on standardized mechashift modules, the rich ore deposits in Vacuo, etc.)

He was stretching his arms when he heard the sound of other voices entering the clearing. Another group of eight - _Ozpin likely rigged the flight paths-_ four girls, four guys. An even split. Four he recognized. Yang, Blake, Roy, Nebula. Four he didn't.

He walked towards them, stride deliberate and calm. A light and easy-going smile on his face. "Hey, I'm Jaune. Nice to meet you guys."

The group looked a little on edge- closer scrutiny would have shown that they were all badly bruised, facing the trials of the exam. Most, if not all, had tearing on their clothing as well as heavy blood splatter on their weapons and bodies.

Yang spoke first. "Hi, Jaune. What're you guys doing just waiting at the temple?"

"Well, Ozpin just told us to reach the temple and survive. We assumed that the Giant Beringel and the Taijitu nest were the "survive" part."

Whispers of " _Giant Beringel?_ _"_ in the background. He couldn't tell if it was the group in front of him, or to his back. Didn't matter.

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense-"

Ruby ran to greet her sister, using her semblance to disappear in a flurry of rose petals.

He allowed himself a sigh of relief. Tension defused.

"I think introductions would do us some good." he said, hailing them over to the main cluster of people.

Social interaction was tiring, and a little bit awkward. But making new friends was never a wasteful endeavor.

...

They waited a few more hours at the temple before being picked up by Beacon's bullheads. As it turned out, there were multiple temple sites, each with their own challenge at the location itself. Both the Beringel's dais and the Taijitu clearing counted as temple sites, and it was only their inability to see through basic semantics that prevent them from saving themselves major effort and time.

He shook his head. Despite this, the extra effort was not in vain. He had made new friends- his fellow students being called on stage right now.

Ozpin's voice rang out clear through the microphone. "Lie Ren, Nora Valkyrie, Sage Ayana, Scarlet David." As he said their names, their faces flashed onto the auditorium screen. "From this day forward, you will work together as Team RSSN, led by... Lie Ren!"

The rest of the team looked on with an amused look on their face as the girl (presumably Nora) tackled their new leader to the ground.

He noted the team listings idly, making a mental assessment of the ones he already knew. The rest of the night passed by quickly, him numbly standing up when called to be recognized as team leader.

He opened the door, ready to fall on to the bed and pass out, when a hand caught him by the scruff of his neck. The most likely suspect was Arslan, given how his other two teammates were already in the room.

They turned to him, eyes filled with slight worry and a somber look.

Pyrrha spoke. "Jaune, you still have to explain what happened back in the forest."

Reece added. "Yeah, you looked close to death a while ago! Well, until you started glowing."

He steeled himself. The night was not over yet.

* * *

 **TEAM LIST:**

 **(leaders italicized)**

 **TEAM JANR (Janissary)**

 _Jaune Arc_

Pyrrha Nikos

Arslan Altan

Reece Chloris

 **TEAM RWWN (Rowan)**

 _Ruby Rose_

Weiss Schnee

Sun Wukong

Neptune Vasilias

 **TEAM BGNY (Burgundy)**

Yang Xiao Long

Blake Belladonna

 _Nebula Violette_

Dew Gayl

 **TEAM SSND (Sandstorm)**

 _Brawnz Ni_

Roy Stallion

Dove Bronzewing

Sky Lark

 **TEAM DESH (Desher)**

 _Gwen Darcy_

Octavia Ember

Bolin Hori

Nadir Shiko

 **TEAM MNWT (Minuet)**

 _Nolan Porfirio_

May Zedong

Cardin Winchester

Russel Thrush

 **TEAM RSSN (Resolution)**

Nora Valkyrie

 _Ren Lie_

Scarlet David

Sage Ayana


	5. Breakaway

**Chapter 5**

 **Breakaway**

 **Disclaimer: rust**

 **AN: I plan on sending the plot off the rails very very soon. In about four chapters or so.**

 **Also, the narrator is part-Jaune, part-omniscient.**

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 **MISSION PRIMER**

Mission ID: V_MDL_Rec_0126

Classification: Recon

Date: 5/17/49

Requisitioned Materials: Two (2) Destroyer-Class Airships, One (1) Bullhead, Fifty (50) Thermobaric Aura-Detonated Explosive Warheads, Forty (40) Standard-Issue Medpacks, One Hundred (100) MRE Packs

Hunters Contracted: [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED].

Pilots Contracted: [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED].

Details:

Massive disturbance detected in the Valean Midlands, with latent aura barometers from the nearby sectors of SEM and EVC reading consistent measurements. As per the Scranton-Talbot Atman Scale, the disturbance was rated to be approximately 1445.75 STU, matching the output of a Grimm horde numbering that of thirty million. In accordance with standard protocol, a cohort of twenty hunters was deployed to the landing point at SEM, and made their way towards the settlements of [DATA EXPUNGED] and [DATA EXPUNGED].

The hunter teams met heavy resistance in the form of dense Grimm presence, as well as Grimm with levels upwards of 10STU such as Perihelions, Asuras, and an as-of-yet unnamed species of Grimm capable of repurposing Grimm waste matter. Despite the normally hostile nature of Grimm, hunters were not pursued extensively by Grimm, only attacking when attacked. Compare similar Grimm behavior in events Va_SHA_D_0457, and M_HVN_D_0324.

After reaching the first settlement of [DATA EXPUNGED] it is important to note that Grimm presence was growing steadily denser within the area. It was only their peculiar nature that allowed the hunter teams to reach the area quickly. Site [DATA EXPUNGED] was mostly destroyed, with the Grimm rampages causing most of the damage. The Grimm inside the settlement displayed normal hostile attitudes, akin to that of normal Grimm.

In site [DATA EXPUNGED], the operatives rescued five survivors, [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED], and [REDACTED]. Unfortunately, [REDACTED] expired due to prior injuries resistant to standard aura stimulus injections and the semblances of [REDACTED] and [REDACTED]. [REDACTED]'s body was sent to laboratory [DATA EXPUNGED] for further testing.

After scavenging for another thirty minutes, hunters [REDACTED] and [REDACTED] returned with the survivors in a Bullhead back to Vale Medical for treatment. The rest continued towards [DATA EXPUNGED]. Upon arrival, it is to be noted that hunters [REDACTED] and [REDACTED] said they felt an "ominous aura" emanating from the town square. It is also to be noted that [REDACTED] was born and raised in [DATA EXPUNGED], and as such was in a state of distress.

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[DATA RESTRICTED. PLEASE INPUT LEVEL 4 OR HIGHER CREDENTIALS.]

USERNAME: clockworkman

PASSWORD: therustthatcreepsandsmothers

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Upon reaching the town square, several unidentified Grimm upwards of 20 STU were prostrate, presumably in a form of worship towards a glowing object in the center of a dais made of debris and corpses. [REDACTED] recognized the object, stating that it was her family's ancestral sword, the "Crocea Mors". See articles "The Great War" and "Arc Family" for further detail.

The Grimm were unresponsive, allowing the hunter teams to dispatch them easily. After clearing the area of Grimm, [REDACTED] requested that the artifact be given to her. Squad Leader [REDACTED] denied the request, but on the flight back was overruled by Hunter Superior [REDACTED].

No survivors were found in settlement [DATA EXPUNGED].

Conclusion: Threat dispatched without the need of an additional search and destroy mission. Area now safe to live in, but will require an additional year of observation for further research.

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"Mr. Arc, I will turn you into our savior."

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* * *

 _burn away into the night_

 _and maybe_

 _you'll_

 _find_

 _a_

 _way_

 _to_

 _save_

 _them_

Jaune found his throat muscles constricting, refusing his voice access to the world. He couldn't speak, voice unresponsive and dare he say it- rebellious. It felt like he was choking on his own spit, tongue too big to allow airflow.

He forced his throat open, semblance operating at full blast. The psychosis was acting, regardless of how lucid he was- the calming effect of his aura was the only thing stopping him from simply curling up into a ball and crying.

His teammates were sitting, eyes alert and watching with bated breath, as he worked up the courage to just say the words. What could he say? There was no form of reasonable lead-up, any form of easing them into a tragedy as senseless as his.

Mounting pressure, lifting up from his lungs into his throat. Constrict, release. _Say it, just say it._ He couldn't. There was no way he could.

So paradoxically, he did.

"Everyone I know is dead." The words tumbled out, leaping off his tongue as they crashed into a silent, shattered moon.

 _There_. They looked physically struck, faces twisting into sympathetic expressions. He saw that face on TV, when something hilariously bad happens to the main character. It was strange.

He soaked in the hush that fell upon them, the quiet rumble of the world around him. It was louder than it had any right to be, with the faint voices of teams in other rooms. Nothing but absolute silence would poetically fit this scene.

"A Grimm horde three days ago destroyed my village and everyone in it." He allowed himself a bitter bark of a laugh. "Well, except me. I _ran._ "

He saw it, the defiant look of "It's not your fault!" ready to strike. On Arslan, on Pyrrha, on Reece. So soon, and yet so mired by their bonds already. He found that vaguely funny.

"I'm under no illusion that it was "my fault" they died." Rationally, the chain of causality did not drag him to the abyss with their deaths. He was/is a hunter-in-training, and could not be expected to save them from the onslaught of darkness engulfing his village. That didn't mean that it didn't _hurt._

"It's just..."

He shook his head. There was no time for that. Emotional hangups would lengthen the story, and make it harder for him to finish.

"Anyway, I made my way westwards, towards Vale. After I reached an outpost in the Valean range, I was picked up by a bullhead. Ozpin must have caught wind, because he offered me a scholarship here the moment I arrived."

A pause. Time to end.

"So, that's my story. Presumably, my outburst in the forest was because of a panic attack, or something PTSD-related." His eyes stung, but he pushed it down. The hate-heat of his power pulsed with the same beat of his heart, writhing and systematic.

 _Ba-dump._

 _Ba-dump._

 _Ba-dump._

It rang loudly in his ears.

Another silence, this time tinged by an awkward, stilted finality.

His awkward smile, broken and sharp, like shards of stained glass on the floor of an abandoned cathedral. He hated it.

It was broken, surprisingly by Reece, who looked angry. Her face was red, and her eyes locked straight onto his. She spoke, cadence frustrated and disbelieving. "How can you be so, so, so _calm_ about this!? WE look more distraught than you do."

Understandable. Social norms dictated that you be an emotional wreck in the wake of loss. But he was stronger than that. He could weather the storm. The notion of heroes breaking down after catastrophe was outdated and cliche. Normal humans didn't work like that. And even if they did, he didn't consider himself normal anymore.

"Maybe I'm just unique." he said, deliberately glib. "Not everyone has to break down crying after a tragedy."

"That's not true!" she retorted hotly. "Don't you feel something? Those were your friends! Your family!"

"Of course I feel bad. But I think I'm mature enough to internalize that pain, rather than taking it out on everyone." That was what adults did, right?

"Jaune," Pyrrha said softly, "This isn't a question of maturity."

"What, so you expect me to force some kind of emotion out of myself? That's not how emotions work."

"Look, it's perfectly normal to show weakness and sadness. Keeping these emotions bottled up is harmful- eventually, it's going to burst."

"I'm not bottling them up."

Reece's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

His answer was calm, composure contrary to what would be expected. The ones doing the consoling were emotional, the victim tranquil. Ironic if he'd ever seen it.

"One of the facets of my semblance makes me calm. I'm using it right now, to sustain my ability to speak calmly and rationally."

This time, Pyrrha spoke. A heavy frown on her face. The darting flash of worry, and a deep sadness lurking in her expression.

"That's not healthy, Jaune."

He felt something niggling around his chest area. Something hot and angry. Crush it. Repress.

"What do you mean?" His eyes narrowed.

"Look, there are reports of people who abuse semblances that affect their mental state. It ends badly Jaune, for everyone."

"Maybe mine's different?"

He looked at her, facade beginning to crack. His position was slowly becoming untenable. The idea of that purifying light slowly corrupted, looking more like that powder white of cocaine and fairy dust. The semblance automatically began to recede, a cold seeping its way into his bones. His body was rejecting it, not allowing it to affect his mental state any more.

Ultimately, he was a person that would sacrifice himself to fulfill his ideals. Taking the easy way out was pragmatically bad. It was harmful. Even if he consciously didn't want to let go of that light, his body- no, his soul demanded nothing less than the perfect vessel to carry out its dreams of revenge and hate.

"It's like a drug, and the trauma gets repressed until you run out of aura or it simply stops working. My uncle was like this, and I don't want to see you ending up like him. He lashed out, and we lost three people before he died."

The safety locks around his power began to fall away, bits and pieces of mental defensive mechanisms self-destructing. His body felt cold. He felt cold. He felt _alone._

 _"_ Jaune, _this isn't healthy."_

She repeated it again, voice thick with an emotion indecipherable.

He was surprised to find his own voice filled with that selfsame emotion, laden with something deeply important.

"What do I do, then?"

Something wet and hot rolled down the side of his cheek. His body felt weak, devoid of strength and will.

"Jaune, we're your team. It doesn't matter if it's been less than a few hours- we're here for you. You led us in the forest, and you're our team leader now. Let go, we can help you, it'll be fine..." She was rambling now, turning a coherent line of thought into a stream of soothing placation, like that used to console a grieving widow.

The light was gone completely, leaving him with a painful emptiness, the sensation of self-loathing that tasted so sweet. He felt hollow, and craved it. But he knew that would hurt him in the long run.

He didn't notice that he was crying already, or that he had basically collapsed on the bed, clinging onto Arslan for support, or that Pyrrha was rubbing circles in his back, or that Reece was crooning lullabies in his ear. They were crying too silently and not, all broken in their own stupid, senseless ways.

Pyrrha, with her desperate need for attention and at the same time normalcy. She fought because she loved to fight and lift up that trophy, but lamented the pedestal that separated her from her peers. He gave to her the sensation of life, the idea that she would be normal through him. He treated her as normal, as equal, something that no one has given her since she first entered that arena. And so she searched for it in him, projecting perfection onto his imperfect frame. Already, she was infatuated with him, craving his attention. It was unhealthy.

Arslan, with her uncompromising ideals that drove her to train herself bleeding raw. She was born with nothing, and fought because she knew in her heart of hearts that she deserved _something, anything._ He gave her companionship, another as driven and hateful as she, with his tragedy and his dreams. She clung onto him as she did to her ambitions, associating him with the happiness that she so desperately needed. And so she would burn like her semblance, tearing away at herself until she was nothing but ash. It was unhealthy.

Reece, with her self-hatred and insecurity that she masked with laughter and an attitude. She found herself wanting in all aspects. She hated her body, her semblance, her personality, her everything. He gave her command, the mortar that filled in the cracks between brick walls, the support that supplanted her fears and flaws. She followed his orders to the T, and trusted him completely because she did not trust herself. She looked at what she wanted to be, and found it in Jaune. Even his struggles she found beautiful, in a narrative sense. It was unhealthy.

You already know about Jaune.

Their psychoses had not fully set in yet, but this was to be their future. A team bound by their faults and their dreams. Then again, what other kind of team was there?

The world spun on, uncaring of the lives of teenagers lost in a tide of black.

Co-dependency is a wonderful thing.

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 _and if the stars_

 _collide_

 _will_

 _she_

 _relieve_

 _my_

 _soul_

Jaune awoke in a compromising position, like those commonly found in low-quality, self-insert, Japandering fiction. He had fallen asleep, head resting on Arslan's breast, and arms tangled in a mess of limbs and torsos. He lifted his head, if only to get his face out of Reece's hair. He snaked his arm out of the maze-like flesh knots they had formed, grazing Pyrrha several times in the process.

 _If only tragedy could be cleaner._

The first thing he noticed was that he felt _normal_. No withdrawal symptoms, no lingering hollowness. That was erroneous. Wrong. Logical convention dictated that if he used anything to supplant something else, that something else would come back in full force. It was off.

But his aura was still at full. That meant that he wasn't using his semblance. Cautiously, he turned the tap of golden light to slightly on. With that mental trigger returned the familiar hero-courage and hyper-tranquil he was so used to. Which meant... that he had recovered fully. Somehow.

This was too good to believe.

He checked his scroll. 6:45. School started at 9:00, leaving them two hours and fifteen minutes for morning routines and breakfast. He set the alarm on his scroll to ring in ten minutes. That left him enough time to use the bathroom before hightailing it out of there.

The Beacon uniform was a black suit lined with gold, accompanied by a blue vest and a white shirt. It was made of some cheap fabric he didn't care enough about to research. It did imply that Beacon was hard-pressed in meeting the logistical demands for the influx of new students however, and that meant something.

Oh. _There was a tie._ Grimacing, he brought the dreaded neck-snake with the rest of the clothes into the bathroom.

He allowed himself to soak in the hot setting the shower had for a few seconds, before turning the knob all the way to the other side. _Had to be cold._ It would be bad if he caught an erection in the dorm room, or before combat class. His teammates were of exceptional beauty, and he had to adjust for that fact.

He looked at his face in the mirror. No stubble yet, he had shaved recently anyway. His eyes weren't bloodshot as he had expected them to be. No discernible pimples. A particularly strong jawline, if he said so himself. A pair of blue, not-bloodshot-from-crying-like-a-bitch eyes. Vaguely attractive, if you squinted and turned your head sideways.

He whistled as he used the urinal. It wasn't like anyone else on his team was gonna use it, so he had better maximize it's usage. Whistling was used for three main things, signalling dogs, being at a urinal, and perpetuating archaic gender stereotypes. He intended to use exactly one of those three.

The world around him seemed lit with a variety of lurid, saturated colors. Colors were brighter, senses sharper, thoughts clearer. He expected the withdrawal symptoms to make his body worse, not better. He felt great, like he was full of energy and ready to take on the world. _How very odd_.

Hell, he might just become a morning person, if every morning were like this.

As he was wiping his face with a towel, he heard the warbling shriek of a half-human half-animal _something_ from the inside of the room. _Yep, ten minutes are up._

After putting on his uniform and his most annoying smile, he walked into the room, all sunshine and glib facetiousness. They looked at him blearily, with the cognizance of someone half-awake. Which, after all, they were.

"Jaune..." they said as one, a sibilant chorus of hatred. Perfect. They were united, so he must divide, then conquer.

"If you don't get up now, someone else is gonna get to use the bathroom first..." he remarked innocently, despite not having any remaining trace of innocence left within him.

He had never seen someone trample their fellow student with such abandon before. Eyes wide open with the promise of there still being hot water, Arslan leapt over the other two in the bed and slipped past the open door. Pyrrha and Reece were left there, still mildly unresponsive.

Jaune gave them five seconds to realize what just happened.

"Did... Did we all just sleep in the same bed?"

Okay, not the epiphany he had been expecting, but there _was_ something humorous to extract from this as well.

"Yes. It was great."

He _revelled_ in the awkwardness.

...

After the last member (Pyrrha) returned to the room, towel around her hair and a faintly embarrassed expression on her face, he decided to get to business. Clapping his hands, he stood up.

"Time to unpack, guys!"

Their dorm room had two closets, each just enough for their clothes and nothing else. A window on the wall opposite the door, and a rug recently cleaned. The beds were comfy, if a little bit small for his size. All in all, not bad.

Unpacking was a lot faster than he expected, with all of them being relatively organized. Honestly, he was the worst out of all of them, but it didn't matter because he didn't _have_ anything beyond Beacon's provisions and what he brought in his backpack. Arranging the team's stuff however, was a harder task.

The room was fairly cramped, having to split it between four people, and a lot of the stuff they brought didn't fit. Reece's speakers and instruments (a guitar, violin, and a portable piano), Arslan's bookshelves (four of them!), and Pyrrha's trophies (why did she even bring them?). The proffered "put a bed in each corner and hope it works: the plan" wasn't working, because there was no good way to divvy up the space for all their belongings.

Well, there was one way. He saw it, and was sure they did too. But that would be way too awkward...

If he put all the beds side-by-side on one side of the wall...

But that meant sleeping in what was basically one large bed...

But there was no other place to store their stuff...

The others seemed to have come to the same conclusion. Discussion stopped. Slowly, they turned to look at each other, trepidation clear on their faces. Then, to their team leader. He knew what they were going to ask before the words came out of their mouth.

Jaune closed his eyes. _For the greater good._

"Well, it's not like it's anything new?"

When he opened them, they were already pushing the beds together.

He sighed. _For the greater good._

Time to get breakfast.

Upon reaching the mess hall he noticed that very few students were actually there. He checked his scroll. 7:15. Not _that_ early, but the initiation must have tired most of the freshmen out. Classes for second-years and up wouldn't start for another day or so, with construction crews still building the new classrooms.

They were serving what seemed to be french toast and hash browns. With tray in hand, he sat down at an empty table. Even if the food tasted vaguely like hot rubber, and probably wasn't very good for his health, it was better than nothing. He ate disinterestedly, paying more attention to the conversation at the table than the food.

"-ay, here me out here. People can make random decisions by themselves without any prior cause. Don't some people go insane for no good reason?" Reece said, looking deep in thought.

Arslan frowned. "Even those actions are controlled by a chain of preceding events, influencing our decisions. If you went insane, that was because of the biological make-up from your genetics, or from a build-up of events over the years. Look at the root of the debate. Consider: if we have knowledge of the location and values of particles to exist, we should be able to predict both the past and the future with a sufficiently advanced computer."

That was Laplace's Demon, a scientific proof of causal determinism by Atlesian researcher Simon-Pierre Laplace before the great war. It posited that if there was an intellect (or a demon!) with the precise location and momentum of every atom in the universe, their past and future values for any given time would follow suit as they can be calculated from the laws of classical mechanics.

Pyrrha replied, a thoughtful expression on her face. "That's incompatible with the modern Atlesian interpretation of physics. On a field trip there, the scientists talked about how there were particles that existed in a state of superposition, being two things at the same time until observed. Maybe that would apply to consciousness as well, allowing for free will."

Arslan rebutted, apparently well versed in philosophical discussion. "Still, that doesn't guarantee free will. The ability to truly make decisions is arbitrary; all the switches in your brain that make choices are chemical reactions, not quantum mechanics, devoid of any kind of qualia or sentience. We could be theoretical zombies, acting and responding like humans, but really only just reacting to stimuli."

The P-Zombie, the concept that there could be physical duplicates of people, called "philosophical zombies", without any qualia at all. These "zombies" would demonstrate outward behavior precisely similar to that of a normal human, but would not have a subjective phenomenology. It is worth noting that a necessary condition for the possibility of philosophical zombies is that there be no specific part or parts of the brain that directly give rise to qualia—the zombie can only exist if subjective consciousness is causally separate from the physical brain.

Arslan knew her stuff, probably having researched it in school for a project, or something along those lines.

They appeared to hit a deadlock, with the beginnings of pedantic quibbling rising in the back of their throats. He decided to redirect. "Speaking of qualia, is there any form of objective experience under an exclusively objective framework? There's no point in free will if people the concept of experience isn't debated on, anyway."

Reece looked up from her food, a lot more interested in the conversation than before. "Oh, I watched a video on this a few days ago! The "is your red my red" thing, right?"

The classical example of the subjective character of existence, that each organism has a unique point of view from which no other organism can gather experience. The subjective character of experience implies the cognitive closure of the human mind to some facts, specifically the mental states that physical states create. A human would always experience something differently than a dog, even if they were put in the same rollercoaster or waterfall ride.

Pyrrha looked slightly confused. "Isn't our red the same? Otherwise, how could we agree on it being red?"

"Well, color isn't really something that objectively exists. Sure, it's the result of a certain wavelength of light, but that's still interpreted by our brains. Even if we saw the same thing, you might see red as something that I would call orange, or blue." Jaune said, explaining the concept.

The rest of the breakfast conversation was a little lighter, talking about less abstract topics such as the latest movie, or the newest installment in a line of successful video games. He was pleasantly surprised at the level of discussion they maintained earlier, finding himself outmatched by his teammates on a discursive level.

Then again, it did make sense. Given that Hunter Academies trained nothing but the topics necessary to facilitate their vocation, preparatory schools would have to cram four more years of advanced ethical frameworks and logical reasoning in their curriculum. But, that meant that the theory and politics classes they would have to had taken must've been unreasonably fast or complicated, to the point that they would be unable to understand.

Perhaps it had something to do with aura? Normal classes had normal, evenly spaced lesson plans, so it wasn't unreasonable to think that the awakening of aura allowed for greater mental processing power. It improved physical strength, and unlocked fantastical powers over the elements. Why couldn't it improve mental acuity?

He shook his head. He could wonder about that later, when the school day was over. They had just finished breakfast, and it was 7:45, which left an hour and fifteen minutes to do whatever until the first period began.

He weighed his options. There were three reasonable ones in total: interact with the incoming students who were just now entering the cafeteria, explore the campus, or exercise. The third was inefficient- there were plenty of exercise opportunities in the year to behold. The second was promising, but didn't look too effective with how little time he had. The campus was huge, and the parts he had already explored were the only parts he could feasibly reach.

That left the first, which meant people, which meant awkwardness. He cackled mentally.

As if on cue, the sound of Yang's voice reached his ears. "Hey Jaune, mind if we sit here?"

"No problem."

...

Yang Xiao-Long. Blake Belladonna. Nebula Violette. Dew Gayl. Team Burgundy, lead by Nebula Violette. Beyond seeing their weapons during initiation, and his own hunches, he had no idea of their combat capabilities. However, not all social interaction had to be to his gain. They were pleasant company, and he felt himself become more at ease, sliding into a sense of normality.

Currently, Yang was telling them a story about her encounters with criminals in Vale. It was a humorous story, and with Yang's personality and skill at story-telling, he couldn't tell how much of it was embellishment and how much was truth.

"And so I said to him, "Why don't you take that sword-" Yang said, suddenly interrupted by the sound of a bell. 8:55. The morning bell rang twice, to the tune of an old Valean folk song. He didn't recognize it, but it was quite catchy.

He smiled wryly, in a what-can-you-do manner, and stood up, hefting his backpack over his shoulder. "We'd better get to class early. Don't wanna make a bad impression."

The others shrugged. "Might as well." said Blake, standing up herself. They had been finished eating for quite a while, merely using the cafeteria as a place to talk. The rest of the group followed suit, having no reason not to.

And so as they walked to the classroom, he looked at the environment surrounding him. There were a lot more students than he expected, milling around with faces forgettable and identities unimportant. He recognized some of them, some who failed and didn't make it to a temple in initiation. Why were they here? Didn't they fail?

Then again, it made some sense. Beacon was an academy, and couldn't sustain itself by only passing the teams who made it past their incredibly difficult entrance test. The bulk of their revenue likely came from the average would-be drop-out, with the sheer volume of them. However...

It was likely that the school separated them (teams BGDY, JANR, RWWN, SSND, DESH, MNWT, and RSSN) into an advanced track, because from what he discerned from the conversation earlier, all the students who passed the initiation had the same schedule of classes and therefore the same teachers. Which meant that the students in the "normal" track would act both as a reserve pool and to serve as cannon fodder huntsmen/soldiers in the future. How ruthless. Efficient, but ruthless.

Humanity had to have its own hordes to send, after all.

Opening the door, he was greeted with the multitude of students who chose to be early to class. There were a lot of them, as it turned out, and he could _feel_ their heads swiveling to gaze at him. As he walked towards an empty row of seats, he noticed them following his movements. A bit nervous, he turned to his team.

"What's with them?"

Surprisingly, it was Arslan who responded. "They're interested in the person who defeated a Mutant Beringel and is the leader of the Invincible Girl's team."

"Wait, how did they find out about that?"

"Someone probably overheard you during initiation, and the rumor spread." Occam's razor. He sighed.

"Pyrrha, is this going to suck?"

Her face was sympathetic. "Yes."

Putting his books on his desk, he set his face into a stony expression. He would bear this with dignity. Their stares would not bother him. They would not bother him.

After a few seconds of mimicking a constipated rock, he silently admitted to himself that they were getting to him. At a loss for what to do, he turned his mental processes inwards. What was first period?

"Guys, what's first period?"

"Grimm Studies." Dew responded, swiftly returning to her conversation with Arslan. He assumed they were talking about girl stuff. There was too much estrogen in his surroundings, and it was getting to his head.

Grimm Studies was one of the most important classes they had in their curriculum, being directly aligned with their vocation as hunters. Presumably, it would teach them about the weaknesses of Grimm, as well as the most efficient ways of handling them. So it would make sense that Beacon would allocate the most skilled and effective teachers for this subject. Given that, he vowed to take the teacher seriously, and learn as much as he could from this lesson.

Just then, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Their teacher walked in the room, carrying himself with composure, as well as a large, covered cage. A man with silver hair, and thin brown eyes. He wore a serious countenance, a heavy presence that bore down on them somberly.

His name was Peter Port-!

Wait, no, it was Headmaster Ozpin.

"Greetings, class. I am, as you may know, Professor Ozpin, and I will be your instructor for Grimm Studies for the time being. As it stands, the man who was supposed to be your professor is currently incapacitated due to sustaining heavy injuries in the defense of Haven."

The class burst into heavy whispers. From what he could overhear ("Ozpin's teaching us?!" , "Oh my god I'm so excited!"), Ozpin was some kind of famous hunter, or at the very least, skilled enough to garner the admiration of a bunch of seventeen-year-olds. I mean, that was cool and all, but he's still kind of a smug prick.

"Anyway, he gave me a paper regarding the syllabus." He pulled a heavily torn and folded scrap of paper from his breast pocket, and adjusted his spectacles.

"He writes: 'Let me tell you a story of how I defeated a horde of Grimm using only my cunning wit and my naked body-' Perhaps the syllabus needs some updating. Very rigorous updating."

The silver-haired man put his face in his hands for a few seconds, and a faint murmur of 'God _damn_ it, Peter' reached Jaune's ears. The man recovered admirably, however, and pulled out another piece of paper. Another murmur hit his ear. ' _Why does this always happen to me.._ _.'_

"Alright class, so what do you know about Grimm?" Ozpin spoke, voice carrying across the entire room. Something made him snap to attention, compelling him to listen. _Must be his teaching voice._

Several eager hands rose to the air, the fervent hope of impressing the strongest hunter on the continent with their knowledge. He hummed, walking casually along the aisles.

"You, boy." His hand pointed to someone in the back, faceless and unimportant.

"S-sir!" The boy stood to attention. "The Grimm are described as "creatures of destruction", lacking a soul and therefore an aura. They are our natural predators and-"

This was true, but entirely textbook. Anyone with a basic education knew this. Clearly, Ozpin wasn't looking for that in an answer.

Ozpin looked bored. "You." He pointed to another. This one he recognized, one of the boys who passed initiation. He had burnt-orange hair combed backwards and indigo eyes. He was imposing, and had a look of self-assuredness bordering on arrogance.

"Cardin Winchester, sir. Grimm are our nemeses, and come in a variety of shapes and sizes. While deprived of the use of Aura, but they make up for this with strength, durability, and savagery. The Winchester family has hunted them since the days of old-"

Ugh.

Ozpin's expression had not changed. "You." This time, his pointer finger rested on Weiss Schnee. She looked determined to answer correctly, for whatever reason.

"The Creatures of Grimm are the universal antagonists of Mankind, opposing us at every turn. They have targeted Humans for as long as can be remembered, seeking to destroy them and all of their creations.

Ancient human cultures believed the Grimm were animals possessed by evil spirits or even the tortured spirits of animals themselves. Further study has disproved this theory over time, however, due in part to the discovery of even more horrific misshapen species of Grimm which have no animal counterparts. With the discovery of new types of Grimm every day, scientists are left with more questions than answers."

"Correct, but not what I'm looking for."

The teacher looked vaguely impressed, but pointed to another. Jaune followed the latitude of Ozpin's hand to a small, redheaded girl in a cape. _Ruby._

"What are the Grimm, Miss Rose?"

She looked like a deer in the headlights, completely caught by surprise. Standing up hastily, she started.

"The Grimm are- I mean, um- I- uhh..."

Ozpin remained stoic, pushing for more. There was a motive here. He would not be so insistent otherwise.

Ruby looked conflicted for a second, before coming to a decision. She looked into Ozpin's eyes, silver light resolute and unwavering.

"We don't know what Grimm are. They look like they're stupid and uncoordinated, but they're not. Older Grimm show usage of tools and tactics, creating basic traps and siege techniques. They have family orders, like bears and fish. They don't even behave like they're supposed to! In the recent attacks on Haven and Shade, they had a _purpose,_ not attacking because they were looking for something. All we know is what they look like, and maybe how strong they are. But we still don't know what they want, or how they plan on doing it."

Jaune looked at Ruby in a new light. She was perceptive, even if she didn't know it herself. Albeit a bit of a rehash of Weiss' point, the conclusion it lead to was entirely different.

Ozpin allowed himself to smile for a second, before speaking. "Correct, Miss Rose. It is true that we as a civilization have been too complacent, considering ourselves better than Grimm. But recent events have shown otherwise, an indication of a greater intelligence and a reason to be wary."

His face turned to the entire student body. Something in Jaune gravitated wholly to Ozpin, wresting all attention and mental capacities to _listen,_ and _absorb._ His focus, centered on the words leaving Ozpin's mouth.

"However, that is not what I am looking for. I am not looking for a description that can be found in a textbook, or unfortunately for Miss Rose, a recent academic journal written by Gepetto Polendina. No, I am looking for something else."

Almost all hands went down; Ozpin ignored the ones that stood. They waited in silence for a few, tense seconds.

Then, Ozpin locked eyes with Jaune.

 _That bitch!_

"Mr. Arc, what are the Grimm to you?"

His brain was working at a mile a minute. Ozpin wanted something subjective, something intensely new, and something that came from him. He wasn't asking Pyrrha, or Arslan, which means that he had something no one else did.

 _The disaster._

Oh. Well...

If he wanted something unique, then he'd have it.

It rose in him, the heat-hate that came with the rhythm of pounding war, and scarlet rage. His second facet, that brought out the most hateful part of him, born after his journey to Vale. _This_ was what the Grimm meant to him.

A heavy pressure fell on the room, angrier and more furious than Ozpin's inexorable pull. The students could not help but stare at him, for how could a student exude such power?

Ozpin watched impassively, eyes clouded with something indescribable.

"The Grimm are the reason for my existence. They took away everything I knew, five days ago. To me, they are anathema; the creeping darkness that corrupts and smothers. They are proof of God's apathy, that bad things happen to good people, and the senselessness of fate."

The pressure was suffocating him, churning him up from the inside and killing him. He had to keep speaking. Something about it felt _right_ to say.

"They are a moral duty. Because they are the most direct root of evil, it follows that we must dedicate our lives to destroy and limit the scourge of the Grimm."

The words he said were rousing, but something entirely different was happening. People were looking at him with admiration and... hope? What the hell?

"Because of this, I chose to become a hunter. Even if it wasn't my reason at first, I cannot do anything but dedicate myself to that cause."

As he sat down, it then occurred to him that he was not exuding the _hate-fire-heat-blood-war_ that he intended. Because he was subconscious purging the _golden-love-hope-courage-calm_ from inside himself, that meant that he was internalizing the hate, and externalizing the courage. Which meant that he was exuding the effects of the /good/ aura, and feeling the effects of the /bad/ aura.

How odd, accidentally giving determination and unwavering hope to the newest batch of protectors and defenders for their generation.

It also then occurred to him that Ozpin definitely intended this.

The overwhelming pull returned, inexorable and true. Ozpin was starting his lecture in the wake of the silence, bringing up a powerpoint containing diagrams of Grimm. The current one was on a large, imposing Beowolf. He was compelled to _listen._

 _I'll ask him about this later..._

He began writing notes, mechanically. He lost track of time, only realizing that he had filled four pages top-to-bottom with notes on the weakness and pack movements observed in Beowolves, when the bell rang.

"Alright, off to your next period!"

 _What just happened?_

As he walked out the classroom, he shot Ozpin a sharp look. One that said _'We'll talk about this later'._

Ozpin's look replied with the transcript of the entire Treaty of Kuchinashi, somehow. He wasn't sure how Ozpin did it, but he wanted to know the secret to it.

The rest of the day went by smoothly, without any weird doublespeak Ozpin-esque plans for the rest of his subjects. They were mostly "first class" sessions, talking about what their school year would be like, and what to expect from their subject.

Classes ended at four, which left him a few hours to do what he wanted before going back to the dorm. There was much he wanted to do, and little time to do it.

* * *

 _What if Kurtzweil_

 _doesn't make it_

 _what if_

 _all the switches_

 _get stuck on destroy?_

Her name was Cinder Fall, and she was full of hate.

In another universe, she was an antagonist, seeking to tear humanity from their golden arches and bring them to extinction.

In this, she followed the same path to the darkness, and the Grimm. Then, she saw the metaphorical light.

The scene went like this: picture a barren wasteland, with rocky terrain and enormous purple crystals sprouting from the ground. The sky is stained a dark red. Grimm spawn in large numbers from pools of a viscous, tar-like substance. The flora is warped and twisted, seeming more rot than plant. There are no animals here, because there is nothing for them to feed on.

This is the Dark Continent, and the domain of the Grimm.

Here, Cinder travels, soot in her ashen black hair, and determination in her amber-yellow eyes. She dreams of revenge, of destruction, and is convinced that she is capable of sacrificing _anything_ to achieve it.

And so she has done much to get to this place, finding maps and getting resources and the skills to fight her way to the center. Already, she has sacrificed much.

She is scarred, several trailing gashes run across her pale skin. Her clothes are partially torn, ripped edges and sleeves.

Something dark and sinister is in the air. It pulls on her, like dark smoke latching onto her skin. She is being drawn forward. Large, lumbering Grimm walk just over the horizon. Their footsteps shake the earth.

She is shaken, but resolute. She will do this. It directs her slowly yet inexorably, like the course of the stars, or the collision of glaciers.

There it is.

A swirling vortex, a spot of black darker than the absence of light. It screams at her silently, abhorrent to common sense. Anathema. She can hear whispers of a language she cannot understand, the transcendent names of God pressing her forward.

Her semblance flares, her very soul rejecting its existence. It is too late.

The vortex shows her evil and disaster.

She sees rows of suffering people, crucified and screaming, stretching into infinity. _This is hell,_ she thinks, and is probably right. She watches every form of torture imaginable, and even ones she had not thought of herself. She screams, but has no mouth to scream with.

She sees the fall of civilizations great enough to touch the stars. She sees the first sin, and the man we call Cain. She sees the one hundred and eight vigintillion heads of Thaumiel. She sees Adam Kadmon on his throne, greatsword plunged in his chest like a mockery of some nameless Caesar.

She reels back, an instinct deeper than primal telling her to _run._ And so she runs, faster than she has ever run before, great gouts of flame fueling her escape. The vortex watches impassively, seemingly inert and unmoving.

She does not forget that humanity has wronged her. She can't. But nothing deserves this. So terrible and so disgusting that it has overridden any moral imperative in her bones.

 _She must stop the fall._

Her semblance evolves.

She is left with a power to see the souls of others. It has given her true sight, the ability to discern the divine light that filters into their mortal vessels. A cursory testing shows that the brighter the light, the stronger the soul.

She searches for salvation. She has accrued power, and a faction of her own. A thief and an assassin, and many more dirtied stars hidden in the darkness. They are not enough. Not nearly enough.

They enroll to Haven Academy, searching for greatness in a generation. She believes they have found it in a few of them, but their stars shine less bright than her own. They are not enough.

She is a fourth-year now, (She has forgotten her age. She believes herself to be in her mid-twenties.) and disaster has struck. They are relocated to Beacon Academy, where they will train for their last year to become hunters.

The moment she sees him on the airship, he nearly blinds her. She gets Mercury and Emerald to gather information, everything they can find on this 'Jaune Arc' person. They find a lineage of legends, of siblings changing the course of history. They find records of a tragedy, wiping away his life in a flood of darkness. They find a sword, glowing crescents and prostrate Grimm.

She tells them to wait before approaching him. Perhaps they are being too hasty.

Then the event in the ballroom, then the initiation, and now Grimm class. Rumors of an abnormally powerful student and an inspiring speech reach her ears. _Fuck it_ , she says, and decides to approach him herself.

She finds him alone, in a secluded part of Beacon. He greets her amicably, and says he is exploring Beacon. As he gets a better look at her, his smile tightens. She can see the signs of faint arousal: his breath quickens, and his eyes linger too long on her face for it not to be intentional.

Good. That makes this easier.

She walks forward. _You are special, Jaune Arc. You have power you do not know._

He says nothing, but acknowledges the gravity of the situation. Their auras mingle in the air, a heavy pressure on both of them. It accentuates the tense atmosphere.

 _Would you like to help me save the world?_

He does not hesitate.

 _Yes._

The light is bright, too bright in a way that does not sear. It is alluring, and she cannot stop herself.

She kisses him.

* * *

 **GRIMM REPORT:**

 **GEIST  
**

 **Geists are a species of Grimm resembling a ghost and capable of "possessing" inanimate objects.**

 **A Geist's base form is covered in bonelike spines with long, skeleton-like forearms and sharp fingernails. Due to its ghostly appearance, it lacks a lower body, instead floating through the air while leaving behind a black smoke trail. Its face consists of Grimm markings on a bone plate with a single eye.**

 **Geists are possession-type Grimm, capable of controlling any object it possesses as extensions of its own body. Should it lose any of its limbs, it can repair the chink in its armor almost immediately by simply possessing another object in the vicinity. Its only real vulnerability is its "face", the central segment from which it maintains control of the form as a whole. All of its limbs must be destroyed at once in order to expose this vulnerability.**

 **While highly variant because of the nature of its surroundings, Geists are typically labelled as mid-level Grimm, on the level of difficulty of a Beringel, or a King Taijitu.**

 **It is vital that Geists are not allowed to congregate in large numbers. Upon reaching a critical point, they merge into a single entity, labelled as "Legion". These Grimm are incredibly durable, and have been observed reaching sizes upwards of five kilometers.**

* * *

 **AN: Hey, guess who's got mad divine soul game? Jaune does!**

 **I'm not sure if this fic will have a pairing. Probably not.**


	6. Montage

**Chapter 6**

 **Montage**

 **Disclaimer: R U S T**

 **AN: I will not make characters lose battles for the sake of losing, even if winning makes them seem "Mary Sue-like." Jaune has flaws, and will be exploited ruthlessly later on. He probably shouldn't lose a fight to any other student in his year, which should make his inevitable fall much more satisfying.**

 **Also, for some reason, I'm getting the sinking feeling that I will need to heavily revise earlier chapters. Something about its writing simply doesn't sit well with me.**

 **Also also, this chapter was meant to kind of be a time-skip chapter? So the scenes will just be snippets of what Beacon was like for Jaune this month.**

* * *

 _is_

 _this_

 _really_

 _love_

They were on a balcony, overlooking a large part of the courtyard. It was dusk, and the last of the sun's rays being cosseted behind soft grey cloud. The piazza took on the look of an old photograph, every familiar thing a shade of grey. The sky was drenched in the fading red of parting light, and the scene was almost picturesque. Two students kissing, silhouetted by the twilight sky.

Jaune's first reaction to the kiss was to lean in, to drown himself in her alluring haze of fire and seduction. He was a teenage boy, and susceptible to the pull of his hormones. She was attractive, exceptionally so. A lesser man would lose himself.

He pulled back. Despite wanting to continue, he was acutely aware of the context surrounding the kiss. She approached him because of his power, and wanted him for something. This was likely a trap, regardless of how beautiful she was. It took him a long second to come up with a response.

"Why," he said breathily, voice slightly husky, "did you kiss me?"

She regained composure swiftly. He appraised her more seriously now- ashen-black hair and aristocratic features, red lipstick and violet eyeshadow. The Beacon uniform, black tights and glowing intricate lines across her arms. The taste of fire, and the heavy pressure she exuded. She was strong, enough to match the aura he outputted and obviously skilled to some degree with fire.

Beyond that however, he was in the dark. Too many unknown variables; her name was one, and her allegiances another. Her lips tasted like latent power, something chained and lashing at it's captor. He knew too little, and had too much to lose here.

He thought fast. This could simply be an attempt at seduction- her brute force sexual allure made it easy to lose himself. The woman he was facing was otherworldly, compelling in a way that could not be explained. There were many feasible reasons for her to do so- the leader of a team in Beacon, partner to Pyrrha Nikos, and an Arc himself.

That was the simplest answer- yet unlikely. The way her eyes widened as she closed the gap, the slight tremor in her hands, and her lack of further action. These a seduction plot did not make. All the tells said that this was an impulsive event, a spur of the moment event.

If that was true, that still begged the question of _why._ He acknowledged his own physical form as conventionally handsome, like the protagonist in a bildungsroman. A tall, blond, blue-eyed, and symmetrical-faced boy nearing his eighteenth year. Not the type of charm that overrode basic decent instincts. Besides, if the woman found him handsome, he expected her to have the tact to at least take him out to dinner.

Why, why, why.

While wracking his brain for answers, the person in question decided to speak up.

"I apologize... I lost control of myself." she said, smoothing out her uniform. Her voice was sussurant, like that of a person close to sleep. He shivered a little bit, resisting the call. Her aura was out in full force, drowning him in the sensation of dreamy, hateful, fire. But he was used to fire, and pushed forward.

He narrowed his eyes. "What does that mean?"

"Let's start over... My name is Cinder Fall." she ignored him, extending her hand forward. She was slowly coming to focus, aura receding at the same time. His thoughts began to clear up.

Cinder Fall, Cinder Fall.

He had overheard that name earlier, in some half-forgotten conversation with one of the other students in the cafeteria. Cinder Fall from Haven, said to be the best of her generation, and favorite in the upcoming Vytal Festival Tournament. Her name was whispered as the prodigy, overwhelming power and a subtle knife rolled into a single package. Rumors of her being skilled enough to teachers in one-on-one duels abounded, as well as keeping a chokehold on student politics in Haven before it collapsed.

This was worrying.

Getting enmeshed in the complex political webs that involved his seniors was at the very bottom of his bucket list. In fact, it would be just as apt to say it was not there at all. Cinder was a one-way ticket straight to its center, with her being a prominent figure (and therefore, target) in its dealings.

Even associating with her would bring their (so mysterious, that "their") attention on him, forcing him to act carefully in the case that someone would wished to subvert him. Which was all the time.

And she wanted him help her save the world.

That, at the very least, meant allying with her, and becoming obliged to defend and attack for her. He found that disastrously uncompelling. Furthermore, _save the world?_ What the hell?

"I will cut to the heart of the matter. Four years ago, I traveled to the Dark Continent. I saw a dark presence, a wound in reality. It promised to bring about the end of the world. The experience was so traumatizing that my semblance mutated, giving me the ability to see the strength of souls of people as stars, glowing in their chests."

She spoke plainly, like dictating the lesson syllabus or a shopping list.

She was acknowledging that subtlety and doublespeak would be useless here. Knowing Jaune was not the kind of person to acknowledge or appreciate complex metaphors, she would not risk his participation when something as important was at stake. While he was by no means stupid, he preferred simple and straightforward. She liked simple and straightforward. It made her life easier.

His expression remained unchanged. Jaune stared into her eyes, searching for falsity. He saw lucent amber, glowing with liquid power. He saw conviction, cunning, and a hint of desperation. She believed every word she said.

She stared back, and saw the the radiance of the stars. It took most of her willpower not to pledge subservience to him immediately. The star, shining with power so pure and unchained it _demanded_ servitude. Radiant. Messiah. King. Words describing a savior came to mind. She had made the right choice, she decided. He was definitely special, and looking at him up close felt like flying too close to the sun.

Icarus and his wax wings, falling to his death.

This made no sense, Jaune thought. The Dark Continent was a myth, social engineering propagated by government to spur on the hordes of bright-eyed hunters-to-be. And even if it _was_ real, it was supposed to be incredibly dangerous. To the point that all adventurers seeking its existence have either given up, or were never found again.

The second questionable part was the so called "wound in reality". He had heard of no such thing before, and found it unlikely that a wound in reality would exist, nor would it exist in the Dark Continent. And it apparently it showed her the end of the world. Prophetic semblances were rare, and none so powerful as that.

Although, it would help to play along. She seemed willing to explain, and perhaps it would lend him insight into her true motivations.

"That doesn't explain why you kissed me."

He said it more as a statement than a question, lacking the vocal lilt that turned declarative into interrogative. It was spoken evenly, betraying neither belief nor disbelief- the only meaning conveyed was that of the sentence itself.

Cinder paused for a second, searching for the right words. She contemplated playing up theatrics, weaving a magnificent lie about his role in the world. She decided to speak without falsehood, pushing past any notions of awkwardness. This was no time to play games.

"Out of all the souls I have seen, yours has glowed the brightest. It was... special, for the lack of a better word, and attracted me in a way that manifested itself by kissing you."

He paused for a second, contemplating her statement.

 _This is way too surreal._

He looked back Cinder, who was waiting patiently.

"Why should I believe you, or anything you say?"

Truth be told, he was already starting to believe her. She spoke with sincerity, and he detected no falsehood in her words. But belief demanded a minimum burden of proof, and his rational mind would accept no less. After all, this could still be an elaborate ploy to make him play directly into the hands of some malicious third-party.

"There is a way for me to prove it to you, but it requires that you do not react rashly."

He refused to back down, no matter what.

"Do it."

She closed her eyes, the subtle pulse of power running through the air. She opened them again, amber eyes glowing luminously.

"I will show you your soul, Jaune Arc."

In that moment, all of his focus was drawn to her. A great light bloomed in her chest, in the outline of a symbol he recognized from the traveler's language. A circle, attached to an arrow. _Go this way,_ it meant. It pointed upwards, to her face.

Then she kissed him again.

A tide of power ripped through his body, subsuming his entire being. It tore at him, bringing him to his knees.

The tangible world faded away, the ground beneath him fading into murky black. Surprisingly, he did not fall as he expected, but floated in the air. Lazily, he was being pushed forward by some secret inertia.

Then, the storm. Light and chaos, whipping at him wildly, threatening to rend him apart. The void struck at itself, forcing _something_ into being. It ground at him, scraping at his mental strength until he was raw and tired. Violent winds, scoring great wounds across his body.

The vortex slammed at him for what seems like an hour but what could be a minute. Agonizing pain, sensory nerves lighting up across his body telling him to _get away_. Something deeper compelled him to stay, anchoring him to a single spot in the endless darkness.

Then, nothing.

Waves of energy pulsed outwards from a point inside of him. He ceased to exist in a physical form, body dissolving away to motes of light. Then, he understood. In a way that was more certain than certainty itself, the way that a scholar knows that one plus one is two, he knew that he was incomplete. Immature, not in the sense of age nor mental capacity, but in terms of his soul.

Unready.

It was not yet fully grown. It ached, like a hunger that was felt throughout his entire body.

He lacked the vocabulary to describe the experience. A distinct loss of self, the identity that defined him and was shaped by him. It was as if he had lost all memories and experiences from which to derive decision-making abilities, yet still retained said memories. He was devoid of a goal or a personality- he remembered having an opinion on the Faunus Revolution. He did not have one anymore.

Then, the loss of a physical body. He looked down in a way that could be described as a movement of point-of-view. He did not see his body, or his arms, or even his nose. All was black. Senses disappeared one-by-one, starting with smell. Then, hearing and taste and touch and sight. A loss of proprioception followed suit, Jaune suddenly unable to discern the location of where his body was supposed to be.

He was left with consciousness.

Then, nothing.

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

Jaune woke suddenly, coming to fullness in the space between heartbeats.

He saw himself. The perspective from which he viewed himself was alien, disregarding conventional concepts of vision and color. He was there, in a form that was himself and not. It retained his innate Jaune-ness, carrying the same physical form, but at the same time, he was more. It was bright, far too bright for him to look at directly. But he saw with his heart, not his eyes, so he looked anyway.

Ten spheres, floating in a way that overlapped with each other and were yet distinctly different. Luminescent, glowing brightly, yet transparent. Moving words in an unknown language swirled rapidly along the surface, faster than he could possibly decipher.

The experience was odd, and he recognized it as such. But the realization lacked the emotion that came corollary to human thought. He knew he was surprised, but did not _feel_ it. He was a body existing by form of rationality, and the emotion was compartmentalized separate from his thought process. It was missing a certain qualia, and the world seemed different in an imperceptible manner.

He pushed past that. The more pressing matter was the spheres- if this was his soul, were those the parts that made it up? He moved closer, searching for answers.

From what he could see, they were all empty, with the exception of two.

 _What's in those two?_

A wave of his hand and a flick of his will. All spheres but those two disappeared. This was his soul, and so it made sense that he was its master. Invictus, and all that.

He moved towards one, detached and calm. He wanted to know what was inside, and why the others were empty. He _owned_ this place. He _was_ this place. He deserved to know what made him tick, and what made his semblance so weird.

The first orb responded to his touch, glowing with a radiant light. Words entered his mind, knowledge flowing inside him without preamble.

 _kingship_

 _Malkuth_

 _reality_

 _tangible_

The real, and the physical.

This was the world, and what defined his existence.

The first stage. _There._ Light emanated from it, filling him with the same confidence and strength that his semblance usually did. Points of light danced around him, ethereal and ephemeral. It was a familiar feeling, the same one that he felt when he first awakened his semblance.

There was an image, of his mother giving birth. Of him growing up, learning and suffering. Doing physical exercise. Late nights studying, fueled by a drive he knew not the origin of. Becoming strong. Becoming stronger. Not strong enough. Never strong enough.

 _nurturing the light_

 _accomplishment_

 _the physical kingdom_

This was the part of his soul that extended into the physical world. It represented his birth, his trials, and his body.

Then, this must be the part of his semblance that gave him courage and physical strength, taking into account the sensations it made him feel. He filed that information for later. He needed to work fast. Ridiculous powers like Cinder's usually came at a taxing price, and probably didn't have much time here.

Then, after a pause, another stray line of data.

 _corruption_

He queried instinctively, mouth speaking automatically.

"A corruption of what?"

 _the divine light_

It responded. That meant that whoever was sending him this information was capable of sentient thought, or at least programmed to talk back.

 _There was something residing in his soul._ That worried him. The corruption bit also worried him.

"Who are you?"

 _you_

What?

The voice had knowledge he was not aware of. How could it be him if they were distinctly different?

Before he could say anything, the light receded into the sphere. It vanished the same way the others did. It acted autonomously, not responding to his attempt to bring it back.

The second orb was next, responding the moment the last mote of light returned to the first orb. It pulsed to his heartbeat. Light emanated from it as well, but it was different. It had presence, and flowed around is body in a manner not unlike water. It acted differently from the motes of light of the first orb. The heavy presence that was characteristic of a large amount of aura being outputted was present here.

Another image, this time of him using the light to shear through Grimm. To cut through aura, and defeat his classmates back when he still had a home.

Then, a transmission of knowledge.

 _connecting to the task to accomplish_

 _wholly remembering_

 _coherent knowledge_

 _Yesod_

 _foundation_

More words, thought into his stream of consciousness by a voice that sounded like his, but was distinctly not his. Again, he asked.

"Who are you?"

 _you_

Well, that was frustrating. But at least it was consistent.

"Fine." An awkward pause. Even inside his soul, he was not safe from the onslaught of awkward conversations. But the voice in his head would not budge. It appeared that it could not detect silence. He decided to ask a question.

"If the first orb related to my semblance's reinforcement and courage powers, what does the second one do?"

 _gives the light presence_

 _foundation_

 _transmission of other spheres_

That made sense, he supposed. Light wasn't normally solid, so this part of the soul must be the one to give it tangibility. It transmitted Malkuth, giving others courage and strength. If these orbs were related to his semblance, it made sense that they would interact with each other in different ways.

But that confirmed something else. Each orb had something to do with his soul, and therefore his semblance. That left one question.

"Which orb does the fire come from?"

 _Gevurah_

It gave an actual answer, which was convenient. But it was in a language he did not recognize, like those other words, Malkuth and Yesod. He made a note to search dead languages in the library later. But if he could see the other two orbs, why couldn't he see this one?

"Why can't I see it?" he asked.

 _incomplete_

Another question was on the tip of his tongue when he was suddenly and jarringly pulled into reality. He stumbled slightly, due to the shock of abruptly gaining physical form. Cinder was watching him intently, a curious gaze in her eyes. She waited for him to say something.

They stood in silence for another minute.

Jaune broke it first.

"I'm in."

* * *

 _filling in the shapes_

 _of s_ _hadows in my cave_

 _this will make me brave_

He stood opposite to Pyrrha in the arena, face an impassive mask. A lapse in the action from intense battle, with Jaune waiting for her to make a move. He supposed they had to fight each other sometime.

They were the only students in the first year dueling class who still had perfect records (7-0 each), and thus Ms. Goodwitch paired them together. The duel that was currently ongoing was the most intense out of all the other fights between students, with Pyrrha and Jaune closely matched.

The air was thrumming with latent power, aura expressing itself on the material plane. Jaune and Pyrrha were probably the strongest of their class, if not generation, with Jaune's weird semblance and Pyrrha's stunning skill. Jaune was endowed with amazing Arc genetics, able to tank direct hits from Beringels and stay standing, as well as hitting harder back. Pyrrha was no slouch in the strength department either, but her main power lied in a versatility that allowed her to deal with any situation.

The power around them began to _move._

Aura could sense intentions- being linked to the soul and all that. It reacts in ways people cannot observe, usually formless and invisible until forced out of the body to use a semblance or a skill. This is how those with incredibly dense auras can cause suffocating pressure in a large aura, and how people who spend enough time with each other get a 'feel' for what the other is feeling. This is also the reason for why mass-awakenings are illegal- negative emotions are displayed more intensely, and thus attract Grimm more frequently.

However, immense quantities of aura such as what was being outputted by the two in the ring would translate into a form of battle-intuition a sufficiently skilled hunter could read. If it shifts in a way that says _"I need to move to the left right now,"_ you attack to where it says they'd move. While neither of the two in the arena are capable of aura reading to such an extent, a vague feeling is all that's needed to spur them into action occurs in most fights between hunters- it is those who can move without displaying their intent that should be feared.

Currently, it was swirling around Jaune.

Almost lazily, a golden shroud surrounded Jaune, searing the ground under him. He was blessed with a broken semblance, and intended to exploit it for all it was worth. Since he had accepted Cinder's offer last month, he spent most of his training time exploring his semblance. He had much greater control over it, and maximized its efficiency by reducing the amount of aura wasted.

Early exchanges in the fight had Jaune losing most of them, Pyrrha's skill outmaneuvering him greatly. Each strike was parried because it was overextended, or deflected because she had already repositioned herself. Attempts to distance himself had failed, with her agile frame darting past any guard he had. And the attempts that had succeeded were still effectively failures, his revolver missing entirely with the help of her semblance.

But he had two overwhelming advantages- an unfair amount of aura, and basic pattern recognition. That was a generalization, but Jaune was steadily improving with each clash with Pyrrha. When she repositioned to the left to dodge his blade, he learned to bring it in a sweeping cut to force her off balance. His defenses were getting better, learning that his shieldwork was poorly suited to defending against her, and resolved to use it in more unconventional ways.

Her response to when he used his shield to bash her to the side was a success, catching her offguard for a second. That second was enough, and he had pushed the advantage with a series of brutal strikes. She was a master of what she knew, and an adept at adapting. But she was worse at new situations than old, and Jaune had plenty of tricks up his sleeve.

In addition, his semblance made fighting him unfair. It took Pyrrha five solid hits to shave off the same amount of aura a single hit from Jaune's sword would take. It was frustrating, and she found herself running out of options.

They were both in the yellow, with Jaune's bar a slight margin over Pyrrha's.

No more time to think. The aura around them was starting to get hazy.

 _Now._

They exploded into movement at the same time, the same sheen he saw in initiation imbuing Pyrrha's sword. She flew forward, red hair trailing behind her like the brushstroke of fire on a canvas of sky. The action began once more, their blades clashing in the center of the arena.

He locked eyes with her, staring into emerald pools more vivid than real life. A battle-intimacy that felt closer than any heartfelt confession or silent longing. Here, they would speak with their weapons and their tactics.

Their blades locked, sparks flying off from the intensity of the attack. He lost a decent amount of aura just facing her head on- she was strong, and her lithe muscles were capable of outputting more power than he could have expected. But he didn't give ground. He would endure, even if the power behind her blow rattled his teeth and send chunks of ground flying. He was certain she had taken a greater hit.

His muscles strained against the impact, with their immense strengths clashing head-on. It was like fighting the Beringel again, only if it were mobile and capable of controlling metal.

She broke the contact first, looking for another engagement. His physical strength was his clearest advantage over her, and she had to work around it. This was not the first time she had faced someone who was both stronger and larger than her- she was an experienced duelist and had faced this type of opponent before. With a deft movement, her sword morphed into a spear, in an attempt to use its longer range.

Now she was on the offensive, spear surging forward like a bolt of lightning. The sheen was back, and her weapon moved in ways he was unable to react to. When he blocked, it would somehow snake past his guard, and strike him in the chest. When he attacked, she redirected his offense with a skillful maneuver.

He was outmatched, and it was slowly becoming obvious.

 _The mistake was fighting her on conventional grounds._ She was far more skilled then him in the art of dueling. He reckoned a lot of the students in the room had more talent with a blade then he ever would. But he had his own advantages, and he wasn't exploiting them.

 _Think..._

He backed off, a smacking aside a solid thrust from her spear. She pulled back as well, noticing that Jaune was beginning to glow again.

 _If the "Yesod" can transmit the "Malkuth..."_

His bones and blood started burning up. The sound of war rang loudly in his ears. His semblance responded to the thoughts he was just beginning to form. The scarce fragments of an idea, formed into physicality before its hand knew what to do with it.

 _Then it should be able to transmit the "Gevurah."_

If the fire could be transmitted the same way he used the courage aura and the healing aura, then it would change the outcome of the fight to devastating effect. This would made it difficult for Pyrrha to strike back without getting burnt herself. A cursory test, and...

 _There._

The world around him exploded in a blaze of heat and haze. Pyrrha grimaced. The fight just got exponentially harder.

He pushed forward, shield leading the attack. She pushed him back with a skillful movement, turning aside the moment of his charge.

A flurry of strikes from Pyrrha, her spear already shifted into sword form. Each slash was met with stolid defense, Jaune's sword and shield working in tandem to block her attack. The blaze was beginning to get to her, forcing mistakes where there should only have been perfection. Strikes that would have been perfect missed because of the warbling heat that forced her to keep distance.

It looked like the win was certain.

But she was not done yet.

In a breathtaking move, she pressed his defense with a sudden burst of strength, knocking his shield out of his hand with a sharp offense from her sword.

He retaliated with a two-handed overhead blow, more a guillotining strike than anything. It glinted from the arena lights, metal keenly bright. Without time to dodge, she brought up her shield and sword to block the attack.

Jaune strained, bringing it down with as much strength as he could. She broke contact again, using the same tactic as earlier. But he expected this from the earlier clash, and moved before she did. His sword was ready to meet her before she knew it was there.

In that instant, he was upon her, blade seeking to behead her with a sweeping slash. She ducked, and in a motion like flowing water, connected a solid hit to his chest with her spear. It collided cleanly, silver sheen pressing it forward.

He dropped the sword.

And with both hands, he gripped onto the shaft of the spear.

It dug into him, forcing him to lose aura at a swift rate.

He grinned.

His burning aura flared out, expanding around them like a golden firestorm.

Pyrrha was left with two choices. Stay, and risk getting burned alive by Jaune's aura, or back off, and lose her main weapon. In either case, she was likely to lose.

Losing her weapon was a certain loss. Facing the inferno gave her some time to try and knock his aura down before she fell. She twisted her grip on the spear, trying to push her aura against the wildly flickering inferno around her.

She could hear her heart, beating loudly with the thrum of battle. She stared up, looking into his eyes once more.

 _Push..._

Funneling as much energy into her arms, she threw herself against him in a last resort attack.

 _Almost there..._

The storm was beginning to falter, losing some of its golden luster. The light surrounding them seemed to recede, tightening into a cocoon of _war-hate-fear_ around the two.

 _Just a little bit more..._

The sound of words being spoken, muffled behind a wall of tiredness and concentration.

She could feel her legs buckling, then collapsing.

Jaune grinned. He released his hold on the spear, as well as allowing the field around them to disperse.

 _That was way too close._

They were actually both deep in the red, him only winning because Pyrrha was unable to continue.

Tiredly, he pulled her up to stand on her own feet. Noticing that she was about to fall again, he put her arm around his shoulder.

 _There._

That should support them for a while, at least until his legs failed him as well. They were pretty close to collapsing, actually. It was only the constant reinforcement of his semblance that kept them up, and willing them to move.

Ms. Goodwitch landed beside them, face inscrutable. "That's enough. Mr. Arc is the victor of the match. While both Ms. Nikos and Mr. Arc have their auras in the red, Ms. Nikos is unable to continue and therefore loses."

Lifting the two of them up with her semblance, she turned to the rest of the class. It looked like she intended to bring them to the infirmary.

"As you can see, Mr. Arc here forced his opponent into a lose-lose situation. Had Ms. Nikos backed off, she would have had to fight Mr. Arc without a weapon. Given the positioning of Mr. Arc's sword and shield, he would have likely gotten to it faster, even with Ms. Nikos' semblance. It was incredibly risky to do so however, and was only enabled by Mr. Arc's large aura pool and unique semblance."

He could see nods in the class. They seemed to gaining a new level of respect - _fear-_ for him and Pyrrha, looking slightly awed at the battle. Long gashes and burnt spots littered the floor of the arena.

"That is not to say that Ms. Nikos did not perform admirably, but was forced to react to an unfamiliar tactic and could not suitably respond to it. I expect the two of you to practice in-battle decisions using the simulations in the training room for further improvement. Beyond that, well done. I will take you two to the infirmary."

Without any seeming effort, they were floated out of the arena. He heard her words muffled behind the double doors of the classroom.

"-and for the rest of you, class dismissed."

He closed his eyes, and allowed the invisible force to lift him towards the clinic.

* * *

He sat on his bed half leaning on the wall, half paying attention. Since the first week of school, they had reserved around an hour each day to talk as a team about team strategy, tactics, and generally just recent events. It was Arslan's idea, and the rest of the team agreed quite readily, so they got to work.

Currently, the conversation was on a topic he found himself annoyed listening to. School politics, and battle rankings.

"-asked around, and apparently, a lot of the older teams are taking an interest in us." Reece, the most social of the four. Probably talked to one of the students in class who had an older sibling.

"What do you mean, interest?" He was fully alert now. This was a problem you could not ignore.

"The bad kind, the kind that has all the factions in the upper years moving."

"Moving against us? To manipulate us?" He was starting to get worried.

"Probably." Ugh, way to confirm it.

It made sense, he supposed. Pyrrha and Jaune were performing superbly, with Jaune not having dropped a single match, and Pyrrha only having lost to Jaune. Arslan was no slouch either, having a record of 5-2, losing to Weiss and Pyrrha. Reece trailed behind with a respectable record of 4-3, with losses to Blake, Weiss, and Jaune. As a team, they were statistically the best.

Although, the implications of that interest were something worth worrying about. It meant politics. Which meant dirty motives, sabotage, back-stabbing machinations, and generally having a rough time of it. It meant conflict, both in the arena, and outside. This was something he wanted to avoid as much as possible.

There was a way out of this, he knew. Some manner of shielding himself and his team from the _interest_ of the older students. But it looked fairly grim. Despite Pyrrha's fame and connections, the fourth-years and third-years probably had enough influence to isolate them from other avenues of help. Enough to leave them at their mercy.

He looked at his scroll, which was showing a screensaver animation of a burning campfire.

 _Wait..._

"Jaune, what do you think we should do?" Pyrrha's voice was not enought to break him out of his train of thought.

This felt wrong. Like signing a deal with the devil, or a used car salesman. Something was bound to go wrong, and he knew this would backfire in his face somehow.

"Jaune, hello?"

He pulled out his scroll. A thin grimace written clearly on his face.

"I think I know how to solve this. Hopefully."

The _tap-tap_ of the cute interface on his scroll was eerily reminiscent of a firing squad. A tap on the icon of a book with the silhouette of a man on it. A flick of his fingers led him to the name Cinder Fall, sitting ominously in between Octavia Ember and Dew Gayl. With a shaking finger, he pressed the call button.

...ring...

...ring...

...ring...

" _Hello, Jaune."_ Cinder's voice came clearly over the phone. It carried no distinct emotion beyond the one reserved for greeting phone calls pleasantly.

The agreement between them was that Cinder would be the one to contact him in the case that she needed his assistance. In return, she would use her resources to make him stronger and defend him from outside influences. If there was some pressing concern, she said that it would be within reasonable boundaries for him to call her. He reckoned this concern was pressing enough.

"Hi, Cinder." he said, exchanging the pleasantry she put forth. It never hurt to be polite, and when asking for something, doubly so.

Beside him, his teammates engaged in furtive whispers. The scroll was on speaker, so they could hear everything _she_ (competitor, they thought) was saying. The idea of Jaune having shady connections was rather disturbing, too.

"Sorry for calling, but I need your help with something."

" _What do you need?"_

"Basically, we have pretty good reason to believe that the upper-years are starting to take _interest_ in us. The bad kind."

The phone line was silent for a short moment. He wondered what she was thinking about.

" _Ok, I'll handle it. Thank you for bringing this issue to my attention."_

How ominous. Well, it was her problem now, so he didn't really mind. He reckoned that Cinder would be capable of taking on most of the fourth years in a fight, and could handle it by herself. The way she said that sentence sounded like she still had something else to say, however, so he stayed silent.

" _I was going to call you later today, but to save time I'll just tell you now. Meet me at the training room on Sunday at around five in the evening."_

"Alright. Thanks, by the way."

The call ended with a click.

Beat.

The silence was palpable, in a way that made him want to get out of there as fast as possible.

"Jaune, who is this person?" Pyrrha asked sweetly, in a voice that brooked nothing but death.

"Wait, wait, I can explain."

He considered briefly keeping her motives and goals a secret from his team. It was likely that they wouldn't believe him, or that they would think him insane. The truth sounded so unlikely, that it would be reasonable for them to think that he was lying to them.

That was dumb. This wasn't some drama, where misunderstandings and the miscommunication of information lead to plot developments and entertainment. He was a reasonable, rational person, who could explain a situation without any hijinks occurring.

"Explain away."

"Give me a second, I'm trying to compose my thoughts into a cohesive whole. Preferably one that makes sense."

Pyrrha sighed.

"Look, Jaune, didn't we promise to always tell the truth about ourselves since that night? This is something that seriously concerns the team."

"No, wait, yeah, I'm actually gonna say the entire thing. It's just really hard to explain. Give me second or two."

"Oh." his three teammates chorused, and all drama in the current chapter was resolved.

They waited patiently.

"Ok, so it started out a few weeks ago when I was looking around Beacon..."

He gesticulated slightly with his hands, as if to fill the dead air.

They stared at him, silently urging him to get on with it.

"Uh, so while I was on one of the balconies, this fourth-year girl named Cinder approached me."

"That would the Cinder on the phone, correct?" asked Arslan.

"Yeah. Anyway, so she walks up to me, and asks: "Do you want to save the world?" I say yes, obviously, then she kisses me out of the blue!"

A heavy silence settled on their shoulders.

"So I ask her what _that_ was about, then we talk for a little bit, then she tells me more about why the world needs saving, then she shows me my soul. At this time, I'm pretty convinced she's not bullshitting me, so I agree. Fast forward to now, and that's the first time I've contacted her after that day."

Another silence, heavier this time. The term "sweatdrop" would be appropriate, but the narrative causality of the universe does not lend itself to Anime-isms.

Reece was the first to speak.

"Is "shows me my soul" a metaphor for something, Jaune?"

He sighed. This was going to take longer than he had previously anticipated.

* * *

"So if you grip the sword like _this,_ and then move it like _this..._ "

"But what if I move it like _this_ instead? Would that help?"

"Hmm... Maybe, but it would leave you open to _this._ "

Each "this" was punctuated with the movement of an arm, and a swing of a sword. Pyrrha was instructing Jaune on proper sword stances, and Jaune was doing his best to absorb the information.

It was true that he bested her in the duel. It was also true that Pyrrha was more skilled than him by a great margin. The decider in their fight was Jaune's semblance and unearthly constitution, having more than double her aura. She offered to teach and he was more than willing to learn.

"What if someone does _this?_ What do I do then?"

"You do this..."

She executed a brilliant maneuver, sword moving like quicksilver, and then frontflipped over the training dummy.

"Then you do _this..._ "

She then swept the dummy's legs underneath it with a scything kick, and then held the sword to it's throat.

Jaune smiled awkwardly.

"I don't really think that's an option for me..." he trailed off, not really knowing what to say to that.

"What about _this..."_

Using her right hand, she pointed to a nearby training dummy. A harsh magnetic pull ripped the weapon out of its hands, and with a deft movement, turned the sword around and into its throat.

"I think that's less of an option for me than the last trick you did."

"Uh..."

Beat.

"Anyway, we've been at this for around an hour or so. Now would be a good time to stop."

"Right..." her voice tapered.

They stood around for around five seconds, waiting for the other to make a move.

"So... lunch?"

"Lunch! Yes- lunch! Lunch would be good. Food is good. I like food." Pyrrha's face was swiftly changing to the color of her hair.

"I think they're serving pizza at the cafeteria right now."

* * *

Arslan sped past him in a blur of speed in what had to be the fifth time this hour. She offered to jog with him, and he being the fool he was, agreed.

This was not jogging. She was sprinting.

He squinted his eyes. Wait- she wasn't even sweating!

A low growl exited his throat, and aura surrounded his form. His legs, coated in a golden shroud, felt invincible, with all traces of pain forgotten immediately. His competitive spirit would not let this affront to his dignity go unanswered.

His legs ran into overdrive, and before long, he was closing in on her.

"You're not catching up to me!" she shouted, and began using her semblance as well. Bullets of fire exited her hands, and propelled her forward. If he was going to catch up to her, he would need to up his game.

The distance between them was widening, and he would have no hope of reaching her if this continued any longer.

But he was already inputting as much aura as he could into his legs without causing damage to his body...

What could he do?

 _Think_ _, Jaune._

There.

Use that "rational" mind of yours, foolish boy. There is only so much intelligence can do in the face of insurmountable odds, and you have reached your limit. Just as the stars in the sky will eventually wind down into dust and ashes, you will fail. And when you fail, I will be there to meet you. I lie, sleeping in the precipice between life and death- you will open your eyes and _know._ Then, you shall sing the song that ends the world.

Wait. Something else.

He was still wearing his shirt...

That had a metal breastplate attached to the front...

He closed his eyes.

He was a pragmatist, and ethics should not matter to him.

 _The only thing that should matter..._

His hand gripped the collar of his shirt.

 _was the straightest path..._

He began to pull.

 _to victory._

A deft flick of his wrists, and the shirt, viciously thrown to the side. Yes! He could feel it now, the sheer _speed_ coursing through his veins.

Victory was imminent, and he was closing in on her.

Then, a red blur.

A split second later, and Ruby was at the end of the course, looking innocent as can be.

"Hi, Ruby..." he said dejectedly.

Only when he look up did he find them staring at him intently.

"Guys...?"

"Your, uh, shirt. You're not wearing it." said Arslan, eyes glued onto him.

"Right."

* * *

Jaune closed his eyes and leaned on the bed, wearing one of the spare headphones Reese lent him. Said girl was beside him, already nodding her head to the song playing,

They stayed like that for a few minutes.

"Hey, this is pretty good music."

"Thanks."

And that was how he spent his time with his green-haired teammate. Life wasn't all about training, after all, and there was a need to decompress every once in a while.


End file.
